The Hazards of Amity
by firefly
Summary: Kill the family. Leave the village. Wait to die. That had always been the plan. But when that system fails somewhere between surviving and undergoing emotional overhaul in Suna, even Uchiha Itachi is starting to believe the universe has it in for him.
1. Chapter 1

The Hazards of Amity

By: firefly

Note: I felt compelled to write something lighter to counteract my writer's block and the gloom of _Sky Runs_ _Red_, so I came up with this. I don't even know how to classify this genre-wise. It's more of a genfic than a romance, and it's not really a comedy. But it's as light-hearted as one can get when canon Itachi is involved.

This was also supposed to be a oneshot, but it got so absurdly long that I spent two weeks agonizing over whether or not to split it up into two parts, because I really did want it to be read as a whole. But after finishing the first half, I realized I couldn't possibly post the whole thing at once. The word count spoke for itself. D:

So yeah, this fic is pretty much done, with only some fill-in-the-blanks to be done on the second half. In the mean time, I really, really hope you guys enjoy this first part. As for technical notes, it's got an obvious dose of AU in that Itachi survives and both he and Sasuke return to Konoha after the war. Reviews, as always, are tremendous amounts of love. :D Enjoy!

The Hazards of Amity ch.1

In the darkness of the room, his only distraction was the crack of light in the bottom of the door. He focused on it, listening to the low, indistinguishable murmurs emanating from the other side. A shadow paced back and forth in front of it.

"Take a deep breath and hold it."

He did as he was told, lowering his eyes from the crack and counting the seconds before he could leave the room.

He never truly had gotten over his apprehension of hospitals.

The eerie echo of his heart sounds only exacerbated the feeling. He lay still, staring up at the ceiling as the transducer moved over his chest. The sluggish murmurs on the monitor rose and fell in pitch, broken by the intermittent click of snapshots.

Ten minutes later, the monitor was wheeled away and he was given a paper towel to wipe the gel off his chest. Itachi sat up, pulling his shirt back on as Tsunade tinkered with the machine.

"Go have a seat in my office. I'll be right out."

He stepped soundlessly onto the floor and turned the doorknob. When he emerged into the lobby, the pacing stopped.

Itachi smiled tiredly at the sight of his brother's face. "It's all right, Sasuke. Tsunade-sama will see me shortly."

Sasuke cast a look in the direction of the room before peering anxiously at his brother. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him out into the hall. "You worry too much."

Sasuke's concern turned to annoyance. "I wouldn't be worried if you let me sit in on some of these tests."

Itachi shook his head, opening the door to the Hokage's office and ushering him in. "There is a policy about doctor-patient confidentiality. And the examination room is cramped enough as it is."

Sasuke fell silent, at least for the time being. Itachi doubted it was because of his explanation as much as it was being back in Tsunade's office. The animosity did not show on Sasuke's face, but he stood tense, ignoring the chairs and standing by the window.

It had been eighteen months since their return. In that time, it was still disheartening to see the bitterness in his brother's features.

Itachi took a seat and looked pensively out the window.

He supposed he had a reason for feeling uneasy during the tests. The shock of waking in the hospital after he'd fully expected to die eighteen months ago had nearly been enough to put him into a coma again.

The memory reminded him that he still needed to thank the pink-haired medic. It was the appropriate thing to do after she'd shocked his decimated heart into movement out there in the rain-drenched rubble. But it was mere courtesy on his part than actual gratitude, as he'd woken in the hospital room to a crushing sense of horror and dismay.

Thanking her then would have been a lie. A part of him knew thanking her now would still be a lie.

But it had worked out in his favour eventually. The news of his survival had failed to convince Sasuke, but it had enraged the boy enough to charge both Kakashi and Naruto at once. For all his shortcomings, Danzou had earned Itachi's gratitude for tiring his brother enough for Team 7 to subdue him and bring him home.

Two months of hospitalization and delirium stemming from his constant feed of morphine blurred whatever happened afterward. Investigations were launched. Koharu Utatane and Homura Mitokada were indicted. Shinobi hovered outside his closed unit; mistrustful, awed, horrified. His blindness was treated with a corneal transplant.

He did not speak. Nor did he care.

It was only when murmurs of his survival reached the room three doors down from his that the enraged shouts broke him out of his stupor. Alarmed cries filled the corridor. Something clattered to the floor. Frantic footsteps filled the hallway.

Then the door burst open and Sasuke stepped into his room, stopping dead at the sight of him.

Itachi had only had to take one look at that pale, tortured face to realize his little brother knew everything. He'd stayed silent, staring expressionlessly up at him as Sasuke's eyes slowly filled with tears. Somewhere between the wretched screams that had followed and the cacophony of breaking furniture, he'd found himself clutching the boy to his chest, fingers and IVs caught in his hair as Sasuke sobbed the same question over and over again.

"Why did you let them do this to you?"

He'd never given him an answer. Madara's war was looming and every able-bodied shinobi was drafted into the allied forces, regardless of station or legal state. He did as he was told, using the precious few days he had alone with Sasuke to convince him this was bigger than them both and that the free world needed their allegiance.

Laws, after all, were just concepts, open for revision the moment the status quo changed. The decimation of Konoha's shinobi forces was enough to change the new council's opinion on the rogue Uchiha. Losing the last Sharingan-users would be disadvantageous when weighed against the possibility of having their loyalty again.

So they'd fought, alongside comrades who didn't trust them and with nations he'd only recently robbed of their bijuu.

Part of him expected for any one of the shinobi villages to try and execute him for his crimes after the battle. Another part just waited for him to succumb to his illness. Either way, he was quite certain he was going to die.

But the war had done its part in dissolving old grudges. The nations returned home, dazed and reeling from their losses. All pending charges were frozen. Some placed permanently on ice.

He had a brief stint in the hospital. Then he was discharged, permanently relieved of duty, and told to go home. He'd stood around a bit, unsure what to make of that statement until Sasuke took him by the arm and escorted him out. The first day back at the Uchiha compound, he'd stood in front of the gates looking out at the empty mansion. After a while, he'd gone inside on his own.

Sasuke found him hours later in their parents' room. He vaguely remembered his little brother's arms encircling his shoulders, trying to coax him out as he knelt by their bed and cried.

Sasuke tried convincing him to move to another wing of the mansion. He'd refused.

Instead, in the days that followed, he visited every room in the house to offer belated prayers, taking moments to beg forgiveness in between.

Time passed, slow and surreal. He meandered aimlessly through the ensuing days, wondering why he was alive. His first veteran's pension arrived shortly after he turned twenty-two.

Sasuke stayed by him constantly, not caring about his outcast status amongst the villagers. Itachi often wondered how his little brother could even stand to look at him, let alone shoulder such a burden.

The rest of Team 7 dropped by now and then, never staying longer than a half hour at most. Sasuke's contempt for his old team had withered into apathy, and a part of Itachi knew his little brother could not stand to be around them for all the shame and bad blood. Naruto had long since forgiven him, but it would be a long time before Sasuke could forgive himself. Post-war optimism and eighteen months weren't enough to mend that friendship.

But it was time enough for Tsunade to live up to her reputation and help him cheat death a little longer. She developed a medication tailored specifically for his illness. It was far from curing it completely, but it treated the worst of it until he could more or less live normally again. The moments of weakness and chest pain subsided. He stopped looking for blood in the sink. He could take a deep breath without fear of breaking into coughing fits.

She was far kinder to him than he felt he deserved, insisting on monthly physicals to chart his progress. If he remembered correctly, this was check-up number eight. And like the previous seven times, he came only to assuage Sasuke's concerns. It was also the only reason he hadn't resigned himself to death yet. Sasuke could not be put through such grief again.

His brother suddenly shifted by the window. Itachi raised his head in time to see Tsunade open the door and stride in. Her gaze fell on Sasuke, turning cold before she looked at Itachi.

The older woman did nothing to hide her dislike of the younger boy. The feeling was mutual, and oftentimes he found himself caught in the middle as they glared each other down.

"Good news," she announced, taking her seat and opening his medical chart. "The last surgery took care of the damage to your artery walls. The echo checks out and the past five holters show no arrhythmias. You're low on iron, so I'll be prescribing you a supplement to take with your current medication."

He nodded, glad the news would at least serve to lessen Sasuke's anxiety.

"We've come this far," she continued, looking through the charts now. "It's important you take what I say into account to help the rest of your recovery. Take it easy on yourself. Minimize stress. Your lungs are still weak, so don't go out in the cold. And most importantly," her voice turned stern, "do _not_ skimp on your medication, Uchiha."

He mustered the will to look apologetic. "I won't."

"All right, that's it for the medical part," she said, closing the folder and setting it aside. "I'm short on time, so I might as well bring this up now."

Sasuke turned his head to look in their direction, curious. Itachi did not react. He waited for her to finish the cup of sake she'd fished out of her drawer and continue.

"It's obvious we can't spare any working shinobi right now. Projects like trade agreements and mining operations are on hold because our numbers took such a hit." She paused, meditating over her cup of sake. Her face looked drawn and tired. "The trade of our exports are pretty much the life's blood of the village right now. We need someone to negotiate the setup of additional trading posts along Suna, Ame, Kusa, and Tani's borders. They won't bend to us alone, so we need Suna's support."

She looked at him. "I understand you were relieved of shinobi duty."

"Yes," Itachi confirmed, already seeing where this was going.

"That's fine, because this sort of mission falls outside the jurisdiction of shinobi work. You have experience dealing with these villages and you know the terrain." She stopped, taking a deep breath and downing the rest of her drink. "It's a three month job."

"No."

Tsunade raised her head, glaring at the figure standing near the window. Itachi followed her gaze, silently beseeching Sasuke to stay civil.

Sasuke kept his eyes focused firmly on the Hokage's face. "He can't go. Not without me."

"Do I need to remind you you're on indefinite probation?" Tsunade said icily.

"From shinobi work," Sasuke retorted. "Not delegate work."

Itachi attempted damage control when he saw the cup splintering in the woman's hand. "I will take the mission," he said, "but I request Sasuke be allowed to come with me."

Tsunade looked at him, features fixed in a deep scowl. "I'm counting on this to be a success. If he screws this up, I'm holding you responsible."

Sasuke bristled, about to speak when Itachi interrupted. "Very well."

Tsunade frowned at him a little while longer before the look faded into one of weary acceptance. "Consider it three months of medical leave. The dry air will do you good."

He lowered his head gratefully. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as possible, if I can help it. You'll be travelling with a caravan." She sifted through the papers on her desk and found a schedule. "There's one leaving two days from now. Another next week."

"We will leave in two days, then."

Tsunade and Sasuke glanced at him in surprise.

Itachi didn't waver. "I am fit to travel. There is no need to wait."

Tsunade regarded him thoughtfully before nodding once. "I'll be expecting a report every week."

Itachi bowed once more before sparing his brother a look and leaving the room. Sasuke stayed close on his heels, not speaking until they'd exited the building.

"Two days? Is that enough time to prepare?"

"It's adequate," Itachi replied, starting down the path home. "Sasuke, be more respectful before the Hokage. You should be grateful we've been granted back citizenship, let alone allowed permission to leave the village."

Sasuke froze, his voice growing incredulous. "Grateful?"

Itachi opened his mouth to speak, only to be drowned out by Sasuke's furious shout. "They _owe_ us! How can you say that? How can you possibly say that after everything you've done for them?" He turned to him, sounding pained. "After what they made you—"

"A shinobi is owed nothing for his duty," Itachi cut in, keeping his eyes on the footpath. "I did what I had to do for the village. I did it because I care for Konoha."

Sasuke glanced at him, features twisted in consternation. Then his eyes narrowed and his voice grew bitter. "Konoha doesn't care about you."

Itachi did not slow his stride or reply. Instead, he raised his head, looking out at the village he'd thrown away his life for. People streaked by, civilians and shinobi alike sparing them a wide berth.

He caught their glances, taking in their resentment and mistrust. Sasuke glared right back, fists tightening by his sides when one of them muttered a passing remark. Before he could raise his arm, Itachi gripped his wrist, stopping him.

Without speaking, he lowered his eyes back to the pathway and pulled him away to take the back roads home.

* * *

><p>Neither had time to dwell on the villagers' acerbity. Suna was known for being an unforgivable landscape and it took Sasuke the better part of an hour to find the appropriate travel wear.<p>

He didn't show it, but Itachi sensed a sort of eagerness about him that reminded him of their younger days. Back then, he'd never made time for Sasuke because of his duties, so this mission would mark the first time they carried one out together. Itachi was grateful he did not have to apologize and make an excuse for disappointing him this time.

In the foyer, Sasuke dropped their travelling bags with a muffled thump and gathered some last-minute essentials.

Itachi remained in his room, changing into something comfortable for the long trip. He slipped on a long-sleeved shirt emblazoned with the Uchiha fan and turned to the side table. His forehead protector shone vividly in the light. He traced his thumb over the insignia, finding it peculiar without the slash.

Both he and Sasuke had been re-issued new ones when the war had ended. He wore his as a formality now that he was no longer a shinobi. Sasuke hadn't worn his once.

He reached up and tied it around his forehead, straightening it before looking at his reflection. The sight was surreal. He touched the steel plate again, fingers lingering there before drifting to the collar of his shirt. He never thought he'd wear either vestment again.

Now that he was, he didn't know what to make of the fact that he felt absolutely nothing.

He dropped his arm back to his side and turned to gather his bag. Sasuke met him in the foyer, a small smile flitting over his face when he saw the Uchiha emblem flash out from his brother's back.

The smile lingered for the next two days as they made their way out of Konoha and crossed River Country. The caravan drivers were civilians, fortunately oblivious to the identity of their company. They carried a miscellany of items: herbs, spices, leather goods and the gifts Tsunade had included for the Kazekage and his entourage. Itachi shared her sentiment, making it a note to thank the young leader if he got the chance. In the latter stages of the war, it had been Gaara who'd intervened and saved Sasuke from a bijuu attack.

Despite that, he held no illusions about what to expect upon their arrival. Redeemed or not, he had still been part of the same organization that had nearly destroyed their village and murdered their Kazekage. He was fully prepared to accept a punch to the face if they felt it necessary.

Security, too, was tighter ever since Deidara's attack years earlier. The guards' reception turned frosty when they read the names on the paperwork. But after a few minutes of perusing the rest of their papers and checking the caravan, they relented and allowed them entry, watching their backs until they disappeared into the village.

Itachi kept a thin shawl wrapped around his face, more out of concern of being recognized than the dust flying around. Sasuke kept close, assaying the bustling public and buildings with a keen eye.

A guide met them at the visitors' centre, splitting them off from the oblivious merchants. The guide, too, seemed blissfully unaware of who they were as he cheerfully showed them the apartment where they'd be staying.

"The Kazekage's headquarters is located in the centre of the village, four blocks north from here. If you have any further questions, please drop by the visitors' centre."

Itachi nodded his thanks and bid the man goodbye at the doorstep, letting Sasuke unlock the door and step into the apartment first. It was plain and tidy, with enough furniture for two people to live comfortably. Sasuke dropped their luggage in the middle of the den, disappearing into the bathroom to wash the dust off his face.

"What time do you meet with the trade committee?" Sasuke asked a minute later, striding out of the bathroom with a towel around his neck.

Itachi drew out his schedule and glanced at it. "In two hours."

Sasuke muttered something about their obvious haste and sat down on the single sofa. "Enough time for a shower, at least."

"Not quite," Itachi said, preparing himself when Sasuke looked at him questioningly. "You have your meeting in an hour."

Sasuke blinked. "What meeting?"

"With the branch post of the trade committee."

At his perplexed look, Itachi finally relented. "Tsunade-sama felt it would be best if you contributed something to the mission."

As he expected, Sasuke's face withered into a glare. "That old hag didn't mention any of this in her office."

Itachi fought the urge to smile at his expression. "It was an afterthought."

In anticipation of the curse words about to fly out of his brother's mouth, Itachi calmly turned away and started unpacking.

* * *

><p>Sasuke had managed a quick shower before leaving, muttering epithets along the way as Itachi watched amusedly from the den. After his brother left, he took his time putting their belongings away and washing the sand out of his hair. Donning a clean shirt identical to the first, he waited until he had thirty minutes before the appointment to leave the apartment.<p>

He was prepared for their reception, whether it be of indifference or righteous fury. Three months would be a long time to endure if their treatment gravitated towards the latter, but he would not complain. The mission was on par with the rest of the routines that ran his directionless life. Waking. Eating. Sleeping. Working. He did them out of obligation to his brother. It would be no different if he made himself useful out of obligation to Konoha.

He kept the shawl wrapped about his face on the way to the building, well aware he stood out in the sea of tan and beige. Reception accepted his appointment slip even when he arrived fifteen minutes early, directing him to follow the stairs up to the Kazekage's meeting room.

The hallway outside the room was deserted save for a few chairs. The door was closed. He double-checked to see if he had the right place before taking a seat furthest from the room. Muffled voices could be heard through the cracks.

Fifteen minutes went by before he heard the scrape of a chair and a distinctly young voice undercutting the others. Moments later, the door opened and a stream of men and women filed out, speaking in low voices as they exited the hall. None of them took notice of him. He waited till the group disappeared down the stairwell before rising and making his way to the door.

It had been left slightly ajar, and he raised his hand to knock until another voice spilled through the crack. He paused, listening for a moment before letting his hand drop. Through the crack in the door, he could make out the young Kazekage's profile from his seat at the table. A woman stood next to him, speaking in a low voice.

Her hand came to rest on his shoulder and her brow furrowed in concern. He didn't have to hear her to know she was worried the boy was pushing himself too hard.

Gaara shook his head and murmured something in return. She said a few more things and smiled suddenly. It had the same effect as sunlight on a patch of ice. The stern facade disintegrated, revealing a warm, caring expression, and he suddenly felt uncomfortable witnessing the slip of masks shinobi reserved for their private moments.

He looked away.

She emerged from the room a minute later, slipping seamlessly back into that impassive visage.

He only had to take one look at her to conclude she was no-nonsense and all practicality. Her clothing was austere, consisting of a dark, three-quarter sleeved shirt and pants, and a jounin flak jacket she'd left open in the front. The only thing differentiating her from the other shinobi were her fingerless gloves and the massive fan she held on her back.

"Uchiha Itachi?"

He rose to his feet and she nodded. "My name is Temari. Please follow me." With that, she turned on her heel and started down the hall.

They didn't speak along the way, traversing the long hall in silence until she stopped at another door and beckoned him in. He entered, finding himself staring at rows of file cabinets and a single desk.

"Your papers?"

He handed them to her and she took a seat, reading over his information. Without asking any further questions, she drew a small scroll from the desk and unfurled it.

"You can sit down. This'll take a minute."

He did, settling for observing her as she copied his information onto the scroll and drew a peculiar looking seal at the bottom of the parchment. Five minutes later, she raised her head.

"I need your signature."

He rose and moved over to the desk, pausing only momentarily when she handed him a sterilized lancet instead of a pen. Realizing what it was, he pierced his finger and allowed a single drop of blood to fall onto the parchment. She quickly rolled it closed, emblazoning it with an activation seal before handing it to him.

"This is your security clearance," she explained, rising and moving over to the cabinets to file away his paperwork. "If anyone asks, this is all you show them. Only you can open it, and it'll disintegrate if anyone else tries. So don't lose it."

She slid the drawer shut and turned around. "You got all that?"

He pocketed it and raised his head. "Yes."

She remained silent, looking at him a moment. Then she reached into another drawer and pulled out a bandaid.

He stared at it.

"It's standard procedure," she deadpanned.

He accepted it and she walked past him, gesturing for him to follow. She spent the next hour explaining where to find the relevant offices and where to hand in status reports, never straying from the topic. Her mode of conduct soon became clear. Informative but not overly helpful. Courteous but not quite friendly. Taciturn but not hostile.

He counted himself fortunate considering she only knew him as the one-time affiliate of the terrorist group that had killed her brother. With that in mind, he responded when necessary, keeping to a series of monosyllabic answers as she led him back down the street leading to his apartment.

"There are a couple of cafes in this district that'll serve as meeting places for work, so familiarize yourself with the neighbourhood."

Itachi finally ventured a question, wondering why she hadn't addressed the most important part of the topic yet.

"Where is the trade committee?"

She stopped suddenly and turned around. "You're looking at it."

He stared at her, nonplussed.

"Your Hokage's short on shinobi," she pointed out. "So is our Kazekage. As far as a committee goes, we're it."

That explained the prospect of meeting in a tea shop, he surmised. Reserving a legitimate meeting room for only two people was out of the question.

"We'll be meeting a few times a week," she continued, "but it depends on how fast the branch workers are getting their jobs done. My brother Kankuro heads that committee."

"What is their assignment?"

"Manual labour. We'll be planning the placement of trading posts and they'll be building them."

Itachi fell silent, imagining Sasuke's reaction to what was practically three months of D-rank missions. Temari glanced at her watch.

"Once the posts are built at our borders, we'll be working out the plan for branching out to the other villages. By the end of the three months, we'll be presenting it to the council for approval. Do you have any questions?"

"No."

"Good. Our first meeting's tomorrow. Check your schedule for the time and place."

She turned to leave, then, and he suddenly remembered the items he'd left up in his apartment.

"Temari-san."

She stopped and glanced over her shoulder.

"The Hokage sent a package for the Kazekage as a token of gratitude. I can bring it now."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't you just give it to me earlier?"

"It's perishable."

She considered him a moment before turning around, expectant.

He turned and headed into the apartment to retrieve the items. A few minutes later, she glanced up from where she was watching the children play down the street. Mild surprise flickered over her features as she saw what he held in his hands.

"A specimen for your medicinal collection," he explained, holding a potted plant out first.

She slowly took it from him, a look of keen interest in her eyes as she examined the small green leaves and purple stalks.

He offered her the second item next; a cooler containing powdered deer antler from the Nara clan and various medical tinctures.

When she glanced at him again, it was with a cool, assessing look.

"You're a weird one, Uchiha."

He looked at her, unsure how to respond.

"A little difficult to figure out," she continued, lightly fingering the small leaves. "Getting some payback would've at least been justified if you acted like your brother."

It didn't take more than that for him to figure out what she meant.

"You wanted to hit me," he stated.

"Yes," she admitted. "But what kind of shinobi would I be if I couldn't stop myself from punching an ally delegate?"

"I was under the impression it was a personal grudge."

"It was," she said plainly. "At first."

He remained silent, somewhat curious as to what she meant. Seeing his look, she shrugged. "You're nothing like I thought you would be."

She paused and looked thoughtfully up at the sky before continuing.

"Kankuro and I had this impression of you. I think we were both hoping you'd give us a reason to knock your block off. But then you show up and you're as demure as a lamb." She shook her head at the absurdity of it all. "It'd just be pointless."

"...thank you," he said, not knowing what else to say.

"You were also instrumental in winning the war," she added as an afterthought. "Saved us a lot of casualties. I suppose that evens things out."

There was a long, awkward moment of silence.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She just looked at him. He felt no need to explain himself. He was sorry for everything. Sorry she'd nearly lost two brothers. Sorry she'd lost her comrades. Sorry that she couldn't even punch him for the sake of diplomacy.

To his surprise, a faint smirk curved her lips.

"I only said I wanted to hit you," she said, sounding amused. "I never said I was petty."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and started off down the street. "Tell the Hokage I said thanks."

* * *

><p>Sasuke returned to the apartment several hours later. Itachi was mildly surprised to see his brother wasn't as angry as he'd anticipated, looking more put off than anything else.<p>

"It's not funny," Sasuke muttered, frowning when he caught sight of Itachi's lips twitching. "It's the same D-rank mission for three months. Plus that puppeteer guy is almost as obnoxious as Naruto."

At that Itachi became more sober. He looked carefully at his brother's expression before venturing the question that had been concerning him the entire day.

"How did they treat you?"

Sasuke didn't reply right away. That would have been a bad sign except for the slightly bewildered look on his face.

"Like everyone else."

His confusion was understandable. Missing-nin were generally not well received, even if their citizenships were reinstated. Itachi lowered his eyes in thought. Part of it had to do with the war. People were exhausted of their hatred and biases. Malignity seemed needless and wasteful when there was rebuilding to be done.

The other part, he felt, was more personal. The Suna shinobi would be the last to judge them for their histories when the Kazekage himself had found redemption after committing crimes on par with S-rank criminals.

Itachi recalled the ironic smile on Temari's face just before she'd left and relaxed a little at the thought of spending the next three months working with her. Suna had always had a reputation as a harsh, unforgiving place. He was beginning to feel they weren't talking about its people.

"How about you? How was the meeting?"

Itachi raised his head, noticing Sasuke looked slightly wary of hearing his answer.

"It was fine," he replied. "I'm working with only one other person."

"Who?"

"Temari-san, the Kazekage's sister."

That seemed to put Sasuke at ease. "When's your first meeting?"

Itachi glanced at the schedule he'd left on the coffee table. "Tomorrow morning at ten."

Sasuke grimaced. "I have to be at the border by six."

The look on his face was so petulant that Itachi couldn't resist. He reached forward and poked Sasuke in the forehead.

He spluttered in shock, about to react until Itachi placed a hand on his head.

"I'm glad you came with me, Sasuke."

The annoyed look faltered, replaced by one of mild embarrassment. Itachi saw clear through it and ruffled his hair, inwardly grateful he could see his brother's small, drawn smile despite all they'd been through.

"Be good to our hosts," he said after a while, thinking of how the next twelve weeks would transpire. "They've treated us well."

For once, Sasuke didn't argue.

* * *

><p>The first meeting place listed on the schedule was a small tea shop located just five minutes away from his apartment. He got there early, taking a seat near the back as the waitress served an old couple nearby.<p>

He settled for studying the map they'd be using, ignoring the prolonged stares he got from some of the customers. When a series of muffled laughs and whispers drifted over to his ears, he raised his head and glanced at the windowpane next to him.

In the reflection, he made out a small group of academy students huddled around their own table, pointing in his direction.

He ignored them and returned his attention to his map. They'd probably noticed his forehead protector and pegged him as some chuunin emissary. It was not uncommon for outsiders to be made fun of, especially ones from Konoha.

He glanced back at the window. One of them had just picked up a fruit pie. Itachi refrained from sighing and placed his hand on the menu in preparation to deflect the oncoming projectile.

Just as the kid reared his arm back, a gloved hand reached down and gripped his wrist.

"Hey twerps," Temari said lightly. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

A palpable tremor ran through the group. There were a few beats of tense silence before the leader stammered out. "Temari-sama, we were just—"

"About to whip a pie at a Konoha delegate? Yes, I can see that."

"We're sorry. It was just a dare. It won't happen again."

With slow, deliberate movements, she turned him to face her. The others followed, faces pale.

"The Kazekage's been working on a new A-rank jutsu," she said calmly. "If you don't feel like going to class, I can volunteer you as target practice."

They just stared at her, too frightened to speak.

"Get out of here," she ordered.

They promptly ran past her.

Temari shook her head and watched them run down the street. Then she strode over to where he was sitting and slid into the booth.

"Feel free to scare them off next time."

He shook his head. "It doesn't bother me."

She made a face. "Maybe not, but I don't feel like sitting around someone who smells like boysenberry all day. Maybe I should've picked a better meeting spot."

"It's fine."

"Did you have breakfast?"

"Yes."

"Don't mind me, then. I need to eat before we get started."

She beckoned the waitress over and ordered tea and a sandwich. They seemed to know each other well, as the woman discreetly dropped off a tray of chestnuts and winked.

Temari flashed her a grateful smile and cracked one open, filling the booth with the scent of freshly roasted nuts. "Want one?"

"No, thank you."

He felt her gaze linger on him as he examined the map. Thinking she wanted something, he raised his head.

"You're pretty quiet," she commented.

He remained silent at first, about to consider apologizing until she raised a hand. "It's fine. With most visitors, you can't get a word in edge-wise."

The waitress came by with the tea and set two cups on the table. Without asking, Temari poured him a cup and pushed it forward.

"So you're on medical leave."

"Yes," he said, accepting it.

"Anything serious?"

"My condition is improving."

"If that's the case, I don't understand why they'd send you here, of all places."

"The dry climate suits me."

She made a sound of affirmation while taking a sip. Then she lowered the cup, idly swirling the contents around.

"How's Konoha suiting you?"

He paused, considering how to answer that. The fact that he had to think about it was answer enough.

"I get it," she said after a while. "Being an outcast would be pretty bad if you had to shoulder it alone, but at least you've got family." She shrugged, looking out the window. "Family makes it bearable."

He observed her pensive expression and didn't speak.

"But anyway," she put the cup back down. "They'll get over it."

Her forthrightness was a little shocking. Had the comment come from anyone besides the sister of the Kazekage—one of the very few people capable of understanding what he was going through—it would have come off as grossly presumptuous. In spite of himself, he felt a wry sort of amusement. "You seem certain of that."

"What?" she said dryly. "You mean saving the world from a psychotic, mass-murdering tyrant isn't enough?"

That actually got a small smile out of him. She smirked amusedly in return before turning her attention to their work pile.

"We might as well get started. The stuff this week is straightforward enough."

The transition to work went smoother than he'd anticipated. She was well read on the subject and dedicated to the task at hand. Most importantly, she didn't stray from the topic the entire two hours they were there. Itachi was glad of it. He'd been caught off guard by her openness in the beginning and was admittedly still unsure how to react if she chose to continue on that tangent. He'd expected a few discrepancies upon meeting her, but hearing her summarize his alienation in Konoha with a few flippant, strangely empathetic words was not one of them.

Fortunately, she didn't bring it up again. Like she'd said, the first assignment was simple enough, consisting of mapping out potential trading post locations at the borders of the neighbouring villages. They worked quietly and efficiently, with her breaking stride only to glance at her watch every now and then.

The downturn in her brow and her tapping fingers told him she had somewhere to be after they were done, and he didn't delay her when they finished and she tossed a few bills onto the table.

"The next couple of days are pretty much the same," she said as she sheathed her fan on her back again. "In a few weeks, we'll be going out in the field. Try to find something to do in the mean time, since we'll probably be ahead of schedule."

He nodded once, rising to gather his things as she turned to leave. She took a step away from the table, then turned back around.

"Want a suggestion?"

He paused what he was doing and glanced at her.

"If you want to blend in, take a walk while the sun's still out." Her lips quirked. "You look like a ghost."

Then she turned with a wave and walked away, leaving him staring bemusedly after her.

* * *

><p>The first two weeks transpired in much the same fashion. His workload was minimal compared to Sasuke's, and as she'd pointed out, he'd had a lot of time to do nothing in between meetings. So he'd taken her up on her suggestion and started walking aimlessly through the village in the afternoons.<p>

The villagers paid him little attention, carrying about their business as he familiarized himself with the neighbourhoods. The long walks gave him time to think and gradually he found himself enjoying the simple freedom of walking through the village without being heckled.

Sasuke left early in the mornings and came home late in the evenings, having just enough energy to greet him, eat dinner, and bathe before he collapsed into bed. The work, as menial as it was, was having a noticeably beneficial effect on his little brother. The guarded overcast in Sasuke's eyes gradually faded. He no longer appeared restless or irritable. He'd even noticed him smiling more often. And oddly enough, despite first impressions, he was getting along surprisingly well with the puppeteer. Itachi had the inkling it had something to do with him being similar to Naruto.

For his part, he'd found himself meshing well enough with the Kazekage's sister. Temari was as consistent in her work ethic as he was, but unlike him, she didn't have the time to take long walks after their work was over. Their assignment was just one of the many duties she carried out in a day if her frequent watch-checking meant anything. She was a creature of habit, always starting off their mornings with a tray of roasted chestnuts and a pot of tea on the table. She worked diligently, but always took enough of a break to make the occasional, unexpected comment that changed the meetings from something mundane into something more personable. Almost friendly.

Today was no different. She cracked her knuckles and folded her hands behind her head, raising an eyebrow at him when he glanced up from the maps.

"That's some tan you've built up, Uchiha. Are the walks around town that interesting?"

Though he never intended it, his replies tended to amuse her for some reason.

"It wasn't a conscious effort," he said. There was a pause. "I got lost."

She burst out laughing. He didn't expect that. But he didn't mind it, either, because there was something undeniably pleasant about getting someone other than Sasuke to spare him a smile.

There was still an amused smirk lingering on her face a few minutes later when she flipped her ledger around and pointed at their final placements.

"This is the last one. Kusa have been pretty anal about getting the post on their side of the border. At this point we're willing to just give it to them. But for the sake of professionalism, pros?"

"Safer conditions," he said, recalling the terrain. "Taki's end is prone to flooding."

"Hm. Less political tension."

"Kusa has a lower crime rate."

She nodded, mulling it over. Then she glanced at her watch again. "Fine. Then we're in agreement. Last post goes to Kusa. Congrats, Uchiha. The boring part is over."

He stood up, helping her roll up the maps and file away the rest of the papers. She looked to be in a greater hurry than usual, so he carried half the folders for her until they got outside.

"Field work starts next week," she said, taking the rest of the papers from him once she'd jammed her half into her bag. "I'm busy the rest of the week, so take some time off."

She'd just managed to stuff the last binder into her bag when the piercing cry of an eagle rent the air. They looked up in time to see it flap down towards them. Temari blinked, looking a little surprised at its appearance before she held her arm out.

The bird alighted on her forearm and ruffled its feathers before offering her its leg. Her expression clouded slightly.

"Give me a minute," she muttered, turning away to read the message.

He watched as she unfurled the paper. Her face darkened.

He considered leaving it at that and going home, well aware he had no business inquiring into the affairs of Suna shinobi. But when the binder she'd half-tucked into her bag toppled out and spilled its contents everywhere, he figured she wouldn't say no to his help if he offered it.

"What is it?" he asked, stooping to help her gather the papers.

She cursed and glanced at her watch.

"I'm giving guest lectures at the academy this week. My partner got called out on a mission last minute." She stopped trying to be neat and roughly crammed the sheets into her bag. "It's just political stuff. Raising morale and glamorizing the shinobi lifestyle to convince the kids it's their calling."

He knew well enough of that. Before he'd left Konoha, the clan had paraded him around at the academy as the poster child for shinobi achievement. He contemplated his options as he placed the rest of the papers back into the binder. She needed help, that much was obvious. Sasuke would not be home for another six hours. And there were only so many times he could wander around the village without arousing suspicion or looking like an escaped mental patient.

He closed the binder and handed it to her.

"I can substitute," he offered.

She blinked in surprise. "You?"

"If you'll have me."

She had not expected that. Her eyes flitted over him, sceptical. "What's in it for you?"

He held her gaze. "A start at restitution."

The scepticism dissolved away into consideration. She glanced at her watch again. Slowly, a smirk spread over her face.

"Well, when you put it like that, who am I to stand in your way?"

* * *

><p>Their arrival heralded pandemonium. A group of about twenty children broke free of their teacher's hold and ran squealing to the training grounds when Temari stepped through the gates of the school.<p>

"Temari-sama's back!"

"Who's that with her?"

"Temari-sama, is that your boyfriend?"

The clamour was deafening, made even worse when the teacher rushed over and struggled to get them back in line. Itachi chose to stay a few meters behind and watched from afar. Ahead of him, Temari took their excitement in stride, flashing them a grin and looking minutely relieved to see she was on time.

They were ecstatic to see her and it wasn't hard to miss the looks of adoration on their faces as she ruffled a head here and there.

"Hey guys, stop giving Taro-sensei a hard time. I have a real surprise for you today, so back in line if you wanna see."

"Okay!" they chorused, and immediately formed ranks again. Their teacher stumbled away from them, looking harassed and extremely relieved to see Temari. She was an older, fuller woman, with a gentle face and dainty fingers. He didn't have to look twice to realize she was a civilian teacher, probably substituting for the short shinobi staff.

The kids obviously knew it, too, and took full advantage of it. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the older woman as she swept tangles out of her red, sweaty face.

Temari turned and beckoned to him, then, and he made his way over. Taro bowed her head in greeting and smiled, quickly moving aside as he stopped before the line of curious faces.

"This is Uchiha Itachi," Temari said, gesturing to him. "He's a shinobi visiting all the way from Konoha. He'll be helping me out today, so treat him well, got that?"

"Yes, Temari-sama!"

As she turned away to share a few words with the teacher, the kids took the opportunity to stare up at him with shrewd eyes. He knew he didn't make an impressive sight, standing there in his non-descript clothing without a single weapon or even a shinobi uniform. It wasn't long before one of the boys raised his hand and spoke.

"Uchiha-sensei, what's your rank in Konoha?"

Itachi looked at him. The boy looked back, resolute. The other kids followed his example, waiting expectantly.

Temari had been mistaken when she'd introduced him as a shinobi. He'd been revoked of that title a year ago. He mulled over his response before finally answering.

"Genin."

They stared at him incredulously. "That's _it_? But you're so old!"

Well, he thought, to a bunch of seven year olds, twenty-two must have seemed positively ancient. It had the desired effect, though, and they quickly lost interest and looked away.

A few minutes later, the students were seated in four rows, waiting attentively for Temari to begin. Taro stood off to the side, mopping her face with a handkerchief as Itachi looked on from behind. Temari glanced at their expectant faces and paused, wondering how to go about doing this. Her partner was supposed to cover the pep talk portion of the lecture, as she'd never been that great with public speaking. It wasn't as though she couldn't give a decent exposition into what it meant to be a shinobi. The problem was that most of it would either put them to sleep or scar them for life.

Clearing her throat, she began.

"Being a shinobi takes a lot of hard work, dedication, and discipline. There's a lot more to it than just learning by the book, so trust me when I say it's not easy getting to the same ranks as Uchiha-san and me."

A few of the kids sniggered.

"What else? Uh..." Temari blanked out for a second, wondering what else she could possibly say to a bunch of seven-year-olds.

She was spared the need when Itachi stepped over to her and murmured something in an undertone. She blinked when he finished, giving him a nod before turning back to the class.

"Right, so let's start with something advanced since Taro-sensei tells me you're too smart for the small stuff." She grinned when they beamed at the compliment. "To become a strong shinobi, you need to become one with an element to master nature transformations. There are five basic elements. Anybody know what they are?"

A hand shot up in the back.

"Um, wind, fire, water, earth, and...uh..."

"Lightning!" someone else piped up.

"Exactly. Come closer so you can take a look at this."

The kids immediately surrounded her as she drew a diagram in the dirt, illustrating the strengths and weaknesses of the chakra types against each other. They crowded around it, prattling excitedly and breaking into arguments over which was better.

"Temari-sama, which one is the strongest?"

"The strength of the chakra type depends on the skill of the user. But certain elements are weaker against others. Take wind for example..."

She pointed to the symbol. "Wind is strong against earth. Anybody know its weakness?"

"Um..." one of the girls cocked her head at the diagram. "Fire?"

"Right. Wind acts as fuel to fire, which makes the fire bigger and stronger."

"So fire beats wind?"

"It depends on your level of skill. If you work hard enough, you can overcome the weaknesses of your chakra type."

She paused before glancing over at Itachi. "Hey Uchiha. You're a fire type, aren't you?"

The kids went silent, turning scrutinizing eyes to the quiet man standing behind her.

"Yes."

They looked unconvinced and somewhat resentful of what that implied and looked at her questioningly. "Does that mean Uchiha-sensei is stronger than you?"

She grinned. "Now that's a good question, isn't it?"

Itachi gave her a curious look when she suddenly rose and moved to stand beside him.

"True, every element has its weakness, but it doesn't always have to be about who's stronger or weaker. Sometimes different chakra types can even help each other."

With that, she turned to him and spoke in a whisper. "Typically we save practical demonstrations for older students, but..." her lips formed an impish smile, "care to help me with an example anyway?"

His gaze lingered on her uncertainly before flitting back to the hopeful faces of the students. He hadn't used ninjutsu for several months and there was a very real possibility of Tsunade having his head if a stray breeze happened to set the school on fire. But...

Itachi released a breath to ward off his misgivings and nodded. "All right."

Satisfied, Temari turned back to the class. "Okay, form a horizontal line, single-file, and Uchiha-sensei and I will give you a demonstration."

They immediately erupted in a mad dash to get into line as Taro looked on in trepidation. "Um, Temari-sama, is this safe? I heard something about fire—"

"Perfectly safe," Temari called back to her, already loping a fair distance away. "Just keep them in line and no one should get hurt."

Itachi had already taken up a position a few meters ahead of her where the students could see him clearly. She gave him the signal to go ahead and drew out her fan in preparation.

She honestly wasn't expecting much when he raised his hand and formed a single seal before his lips. But she nonetheless twirled the fan to generate a gust the same instant he took a deep breath.

The explosive fireball that resulted nearly knocked her onto her behind. Incredulous, she adjusted her footing and continued to feed the wall of flame, a little amazed by the sheer size and heat radiating off of it.

The astonished cries of the class sounded distantly in the roar of flames, interspersed with Taro's shouts to keep still. Temari caught his eye and winked. Catching on, he condensed the flame into a sleeker form, intensifying the heat as she added more fuel to the fire.

The temperature climbed until the flames were white hot and the sand began to melt. Even from where she was standing, the heat was incredible. The kids broke into wild applause when he extinguished the flame a moment later.

Taro barred their way to stop them from running too close to the pool of molten sand and Temari smiled in amusement as Itachi leisurely made his way back to her.

"Check it out," she said, pointing to the group of boys gazing at him in awestruck wonder. "You have fan boys."

"That one is an academy favourite," he acknowledged, "though this was the first time I supplemented it with a wind jutsu."

"At least it proved the theory right," she chuckled, wiping out the diagram in the dirt. "Even I'm impressed."

Before he could reply, the group broke loose and Itachi found himself surrounded. Six voices began talking and asking questions all at once, pulling on both arms and legs. Temari smirked at his surprised expression and waved as he was herded off.

The ruse of being a lowly old genin backfired on him with the fire stunt and the next three hours found him trapped in a classroom with twenty-five new adoring fans. The lesson wouldn't have been so overwhelming if they'd followed the usual academy curriculum, but with a civilian teacher like Taro substituting, kunai practice was replaced with arts and crafts and stamina building with snack time.

Temari had no problem letting him bear the brunt of it and breezed through the rest of the day helping Taro in the supply room. It was only when the bell rang, three hours later that she opened the classroom door to see how he'd fared.

The kids rushed out of the room in a blur of noise and laughter, their voices echoing down the hall until they vanished out the double doors. Shaking her head, she turned around and entered, stopping short when she found Itachi sitting in the empty room. He raised his head and Temari had to stifle a snort of laughter.

The kids had forced him into one of those too-small plastic chairs. His legs were bent awkwardly in front of him since his knees were too high to fit under the desk. Artwork lay scattered over the remaining tables and a smudge of blue paint was visible on his shirt. It was a wonder how he still managed to look so dignified.

"Still alive?" she drawled, strolling over.

In response, Itachi lowered his eyes to the surrounding mess of toppled chairs and scattered paper and scratched the dried paint on his shirt.

"Somehow."

Temari sat down at the edge of a desk, her eyes flicking over him in amusement. "Looks like restitution's coming a little harder than you thought."

"They were a little..." he searched for a word, "exuberant."

Truth be told, he'd forgotten how much energy seven-year-olds were capable of. It'd been like twenty-five little Sasukes all yelling his name and trying to get him to play and train with them all at once.

"That's cute," she said dryly, pointing to the smiley face sticker stuck to his shirt. "They've accepted you into their society."

The corners of his lips twitched. "The schoolyard demonstration seemed to win them over."

"That's putting it lightly," she said with another pointed look at the surrounding mess. "But it worked out. Even if Taro had to call the fire department..."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, then, listening to the muffled laughter of kids through the windowpane. Temari glanced at her watch before she leaned over and began collecting the strewn artwork. He silently joined in, retrieving the scattered paper from the floor as she gave him a side glance.

The half-smile she gave him this time had a mark of sincerity that hadn't been there before. When she broke the silence, the teasing note had dropped from her voice.

"Thanks, by the way. For helping me out."

There was an imperceptible pause in his gathering. After a few seconds, he stacked the pile and handed it to her.

"It was nothing."

She accepted it and put the stack with hers, setting it on the table next to them. There was another brief moment of silence. Temari glanced out the window before looking back at him, feeling another flicker of amusement at his awkward position.

"I'm back here again the rest of the week," she finally said. "I guess there's no point in asking if you're free..."

Itachi reflected over his condition before considering her offer.

He was exhausted. His ears were still ringing. He was sticky with apple juice. But he was only half-aware of those things. His recollection of the day centered more on the memory of their oblivious, beaming faces and the way they'd treated him; without knowing who he was, without knowing what he'd done, alongside someone who knew it all and still managed to treat him with a kindness and normalcy he did not feel he deserved.

Temari watched him as he reached up and peeled the sticker off his shirt. The smiley face glittered up at him from the palm of his hand. His lips slowly curled into a resigned smile.

"You can ask."

* * *

><p>Sasuke had been taken aback at the idea of his brother spending the next week substituting as a teacher at the local academy, but he hadn't opposed it. Having Itachi spend hours alone in the apartment had been the more worrisome alternative, and he had the feeling something like this would work well to stave off the ennui. Even if it was weird to come home and find his brother covered in paint and kids' stickers.<p>

Itachi found the new occupation somewhat easier to deal with now that he knew what to expect. The students, besides being impressed with him, were glad to finally have teachers that were competent shinobi. Taro was ecstatic to get a break and Temari was appreciative of his help. It was a welcomed, if not fleeting distraction.

The fourth and final day at the school provided a break in the routine. Taro had planned a field trip to learn about the local flora and Temari had turned it into a survival lesson. Itachi watched from the sidelines as she led the class between varying species of cacti and arrived at the final specimen.

"All right, step away from this one," she announced. "This cactus is called Euphorbia candelabrum. Never, ever go near this one. It bleeds a white sap that's poisonous if eaten or inhaled. If you eat it, it'll make your intestines and stomach swell until they burst. If you inhale it, it'll fill your lungs until you can't breathe. It can also make you go blind if it gets in your eyes."

Itachi imperceptibly shifted away from it.

"Shinobi use the latex on their weapons to poison them, but that's chuunin-level stuff," she finished, indicating their worksheets. "You guys just worry about drawing it right."

A hand shot up in the back. "What's that bumpy grey stuff?"

Temari blinked before turning to look at the cactus. Her brows drew together when she bent closer to examine the bumps on the green skin.

"Fungus," she muttered distastefully. "Don't worry about that. Just draw it as you see it."

As the kids hunched over in the sand and began to draw, Temari moved away from the plant and shook her head. "Foreigners bring the spores in on their clothes. This crap grows like crazy, even out here in the desert."

At that, she looked up at Itachi with an accusing frown. He blinked.

She expected him to say something, he realized, and had to wonder at the mindsets of Suna nin to get worked up over such an abomination of nature. He glanced at the cactus again, face unreadable.

"Will it destroy the plant?"

"Yes," Temari replied, throwing another disgusted glance at the fungus. "This species is on the endangered list because of those spores."

"I see," he said after a moment. "In that case, I'm not sorry."

Temari looked baffled. "Why would you—?"

"Because they sound horrible," he said, voice deadpan.

They looked at each other for a few seconds. Then Temari reached up to rub her forehead in an attempt to cover the grin spreading over her face. She failed.

"You..." she tried to stop laughing long enough to get the words out. "You're just..."

For some reason she found the sight of his face hysterical and had to turn away. He wasn't offended as much as he was mildly confused. And a little pleased, because he'd be lying if he said he hadn't grown fond of the sound of her laughter.

She composed herself a few seconds later and turned back around, still smiling in a disbelieving sort of way. "You're _really_ weird, Uchiha, you know that?"

Without waiting for him to respond, she shook her head and strode past him, beckoning for him to follow. He turned and trailed after her, glad she hadn't waited for a reply. He had no idea what to say to that comment.

She led him to an occlusion of rocks overlooking the students and sat down. He took a seat beside her, waiting for her to speak, but she only sipped water from her canteen and gazed out at the rows of children in the distance.

Itachi watched her and remained silent. To an outsider, the scene wouldn't have seemed anything special, but he was perceptive enough to notice the minute changes in her attitude. Over the past weeks, her curt responses and blunt manner had dwindled into something more easygoing. She now turned her back to him where she'd been reluctant to before. She spoke of things that had nothing to do with the mission to make conversation. And she was content to sit in silence and be in his company. Just because.

It felt like seeing an old ghost from Konoha, one that evoked a feeling that was as nostalgic as it was comforting. A feeling of camaraderie.

There was no outward change in his appearance as he realized this. He only sat a little straighter and raised his head a little higher, settling for the dim surge of contentment stirring inside of him.

He followed her gaze briefly to the horizon before looking back at her—as though he wanted to say something. Before he could open his mouth, she crossed one arm over her knee and he caught a glimpse of something on her forearm.

It was a raised, crescent-shaped scar. He recognized it as a burn mark, though it was small, thin, and singular enough to bar any ninjutsu as the cause of it.

"It's not what you think."

He raised his head, realizing she'd caught him looking at it. She seemed amused. "It was pretty stupid, actually."

She stopped, seeming to consider whether it was worth telling him about it. After a few seconds, she relented and touched her fingers to the scar.

"When Kankuro was graduating from the academy, it was a really big deal for him because our dad was overseeing the ceremony. He wanted to make a good impression—had his dress shirt laid out and everything—but it was wrinkled and our maid was out sick. He was freaking out and I knew where they kept the iron, so I decided to take care of it." She smiled wryly. "I guess you can figure out the rest."

Itachi recalled Sasuke's eagerness at having their father attend his graduation and felt his features soften. "He must have appreciated it."

"Not really," she grinned, "I burned the shirt."

She paused long enough to take another sip of water before continuing. "But he felt bad. He still hates it when I bring it up."

Itachi mulled over this tidbit of information, absentmindedly tracing a similar scar on his index finger. Temari noticed and glanced at it, looking slightly curious.

"That's unique," she remarked, raising the canteen to her lips again, "did you almost lose it on a mission?"

"Sasuke bit me."

She nearly choked on her water. "Are you serious?"

"He was only four," Itachi said, smiling slightly as he looked at the scar. "Our mother wouldn't let him play outside unless he ate his vegetables, and he tried to swallow one whole."

"Don't tell me you—"

"I did," he admitted. "I was afraid he would choke, so I tried to get it out of his mouth. He didn't like that."

She grimaced at the sight of the bite mark before looking back at her own scar. "The bane of being the oldest. It's a curse, but they grow on you."

He thought of Sasuke's petulant face and how it hadn't changed one bit even thirteen years later. He smirked. "Uncontrollably."

She chucked, following his gaze out to the children and rows of cacti.

"Like a fungus," they said at the same time.

She blinked, staring at him in surprise before giving into another bout of genial laughter. He stared back at her blankly. There was something both familiar and strangely unfamiliar about the situation he'd found himself in. He floundered, wondering what it could be, when the feel of his own lips forming a smile answered for him.

He only felt like this when he was with Sasuke. A quiet, restrained sort of contentment. A fleeting spell of peace. A warm, slow burn.

There was a strange, flipping sensation in his chest. For once, it wasn't accompanied by the urge to hack up blood.

Taro's voice suddenly rent the air and they looked up to see her waving them over. Temari clambered off the rock and stretched, raising her arm to glance at her watch.

"Our work's done here. You can head home, if you want. I can handle the rest."

He stood up and dusted himself off, allowing a rare bit of mirth to slip into his voice. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

She nearly did a double-take at the joke. When he fell into step beside her, she managed to contain her shock and turned it into a wry smile. "Depends. Does taking advantage of your help outside of mission work count as extortion? Because I don't want your Hokage mad at me."

"It's only extortion if you abuse your authority."

"Right," she amended, rolling her eyes. "I forgot, the restitution thing."

They were silent for a few seconds before she spoke again. "And what if I say you've already paid your dues?"

He didn't reply right away, watching the sand move past their feet with an expression she couldn't place. At last, he tucked his hands into his pockets and answered. "Then you still have nothing to worry about."

She stared at him, realizing what he was implying and briefly wondering if he was crazy. "So am I supposed to believe you're doing all this...just because you want to?"

He looked up at her, sounding perfectly serious. "Yes."

She had not expected that, and for once, she couldn't think of a reply. Taro called her from beyond the school gates and she spared him one final, odd look before sauntering off. Itachi remained by the gates, watching as Taro rounded up the class to sit on the bleachers. She smiled when Temari appeared and asked her to sit in for a picture to commemorate her last day at the school.

Temari humoured her and took a seat, asking the nearest kid if her forehead protector was shiny enough. As they eagerly crowded around her and got into place, Taro's voice cut through the jubilation and called his name.

"Uchiha-san, what are you doing?"

He looked up, finding Taro watching him quizzically. She gestured to the camera, and then to the bleachers.

He was taken aback when he realized what she was referring to. Shaking his head, he politely declined. Taro pursed her lips and the class erupted in protest.

"Uchiha-sensei, come on!"

"Come be in the picture!"

"Don't be a chicken!"

He lingered by the gates for a few seconds before realizing he couldn't possibly refuse. Outnumbered, he reluctantly made his way over. The children quickly scooted out of the way on the bleachers, making room. Temari was doing nothing to hide her amusement over his predicament and pretended not to notice when he settled awkwardly next to her.

"On three," Taro called out, readying the camera. "One..."

Itachi looked at some point in the distance, wondering at the situation he'd found himself in. Some classroom would be looking at this photo in a school yearbook years from now and be completely unaware that among the innocent, smiling faces of Suna's children and the Kazekage's esteemed sister, the mass-murdering, ex-Akatsuki defector of Konoha would be sitting with them.

An unsettling feeling prickled the back of his neck. Granted, he hadn't anticipated a lot of the things that had happened to him recently, but this went beyond unexpected.

This was flat-out surreal.

Taro raised her finger to the shutter release button the same moment a warm weight leaned against his side and a whisper skimmed the shell of his ear.

"If I'm supposed to convince anyone you're here because you want to be and not because I'm a tyrant, it would help if you smiled a little, Uchiha."

He turned his head to her as she drew away, the comment managing to evoke a faint quirk in his lips the same moment she aimed a practised smile at the camera.

"_Three_!"

The shutter snapped.

* * *

><p>The remainder of the afternoon was spent indoors. With their assignments done and Temari free for the rest of the day, the class had taken advantage of the rare opportunity and eagerly asked about her missions and shinobi life. Taro brought out a tray of green tea and distributed crackers and fruit to the students as Itachi sat at the back of the room, nestled in the niche between the pane and windowsill.<p>

Needing some time to think, he'd decided to sit the final day out and let Temari take the helm. She demonstrated basic defensive taijutsu moves to the eager group sitting closest to her, trading her grapes for orange pieces and correcting a limp wrist here and there. Her expression was firm but not unfriendly, and whatever intimidation the shyer ones felt around the Kazekage's sister vanished when she gave them that wide, silly grin of hers.

It was only when Taro came around to ask if he wanted some tea that he realized what had been bothering him.

The woman smiled and handed him a fresh cup before heading back to the others. He sat with his back to the window, allowing himself a moment to absorb the feeling of warm ceramic in his hands. The children talked loudly and happily and the room smelled of citrus. The sun warmed his back through the glass.

Itachi lowered his gaze to his tea, watching wisps of steam rise over the rim.

He felt no pain. He felt no animosity, either. There was a lightness of being that almost felt uncomfortable. There was a little guilt, and then a little more when he realized he felt no remorse. Then that, too, was gone.

He felt content.

He'd forgotten what it felt like, to be happy. It felt foreign and new. And now that he was letting himself feel it, freely and without restraint, the rush of serenity that came with it brought the sobering realization that this had probably been one of the best days of his life.

Itachi slowly set his half-finished green tea on the sill. He gave himself a moment to absorb the blend of citrus and laughter, filling himself on it before he leaned his head back against the warm window and closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>The final bell sounded amidst groans of dismay as Temari was cut short in her weapons demonstration.<p>

She smiled apologetically. "Time's up, guys. But be on your best behaviour tomorrow night and maybe I'll finish what I started."

They seemed mollified with that and rushed out the door, talking excitedly in anticipation. Temari pocketed her kunai and turned to glance over at the window.

"I'm heading home for the day. You coming?"

Her voice brought Itachi out of his reverie. He raised his head to see her waiting expectantly and slid off the windowsill. Temari gave him a curious look before leading him out of the school and onto the street.

"You're quieter than usual, Uchiha, and that's a feat in itself. Something wrong?"

He realized she was right when he noticed they'd been walking in silence for fifteen minutes. He shook his head.

"It's nothing."

There was another brief silence as he tried to find something to say.

"What's happening tomorrow night?"

"Another field trip. Taro knows nothing about teaching navigational skills so I'm taking the kids out to see the constellations."

When he didn't reply right away, she smirked knowingly. "You can come along, if you want. Taro and the kids love you."

He didn't fall for it. "You need my help again."

"Fine," she relented, "maybe I do. But don't feel like you have to come just because I—"

"All right."

She blinked. "What?"

"I'll come along."

She threw him a mixed look of gratitude and disbelief. "I can't figure out if you're really that helpful or just a doormat."

He restrained his look of amusement and slowed to a stop at the fork in the road. "I'd prefer it if you think of me as the former."

She gave him that small, sincere smile again; the one that reminded him of sun on a patch of ice.

"I appreciate it. Tomorrow night at nine, by the school gates. I'll see you then."

He nodded and she turned to walk away—only to come to a sudden stop. "Oh, before I forget..." she reached into her pack and rummaged around until she found what she was looking for. He instinctively reached up and caught the small object she tossed to him.

"A memento," she explained, rolling her eyes good-humouredly. "The kids were going crazy over it."

She waved and left him, then, and he looked after her departing form before lowering his gaze to the object in his hand. It was an irregularly shaped hunk of glass. The sharp edges had been polished smooth and the surface was warped and cloudy with bubbles and lines of demarcation.

He ran his thumb over the glossy edges, turning it to catch the light. His lips lifted in a faint smile.

* * *

><p>Sasuke came home three hours later, dead on his feet and covered with dust. Itachi watched amusedly from the sofa as his brother sneezed and sent a plume of dust flying into the air.<p>

"Hard day?"

"Don't ask," Sasuke muttered, rubbing his nose and frowning at the dirt smudged on his palm. "Kankuro challenged me to a spar and we broke the new wall installation. They made us stay behind and build it all over again."

He rubbed his nose once more before looking over at his brother. The frown faded away into a curious look.

"How about you?"

"It went well," Itachi replied without looking up from his status report. "The trade work resumes Monday."

"Hn," Sasuke muttered in response. He lingered there until Itachi raised his head again and gave him a questioning look.

"You're not going to take a bath?"

"I am, it's just—" he stopped, pausing awkwardly before letting a relieved smile creep onto his face. "I was just thinking...you look better."

Itachi understood what he was trying to say and smiled back. He closed the report and set it aside, gazing thoughtfully at the cover.

"I feel better."

They were quiet for a few seconds. Though Sasuke didn't say anymore, Itachi knew every second he continued to stand there was a silent show of support. Even if he was covered in filth. At that, he felt a flicker of amusement and raised his head.

"Sasuke?"

He looked over at him. "Yeah?"

How different he looked, Itachi thought, musing over the calm set of Sasuke's features and his regal bearing. The image looked ludicrous compared to the memory of a younger, chubbier, more poutier Sasuke.

Itachi found himself smiling suddenly. "Do you remember when you bit me?"

It was hilarious how quickly Sasuke's face transformed from calm to mortified. "You still remember that?"

"It was difficult to forget," Itachi reminded him, holding up his scarred finger.

Sasuke stared at it as though the sight of it hurt his eyes. "I can't believe you're bringing that up right now. I thought you forgot about it."

"You still remember," Itachi pointed out, "and you were quite young at the time."

"That's because there was blood everywhere and I got yelled at!"

The sight of Sasuke standing there covered in dirt and looking agonized over something so trivial was beyond absurd. His little brother, after hating him for the better part of his life and engaging him in a bloody battle that nearly killed them both, still felt bad about biting his finger. He suddenly felt like laughing.

"What are you smiling at?" Sasuke demanded irritably.

"Nothing."

He finally glared at him, a look of betrayal in his eyes. "You promised you'd never bring that up again."

"That part," Itachi said guiltlessly, "I did forget."

* * *

><p>Sasuke tolerated the silent teasing into the next day, keeping calm even though his brother's small, knowing smiles made him want to throw a pillow in his face. The fact that Itachi was smiling at all was enough of a reason to endure it.<p>

He grudgingly bid him goodbye in the morning, halfway glad he'd be asleep by the time Itachi got home. He loved his brother to death, but goddamn it if Itachi wasn't incredibly irritating when he wanted to be.

For his part, Itachi spent the remainder of the day finishing off his status report, glancing up at the clock every so often as the sun sank out of sight. He'd never had qualms about spending time alone before, but the prospect became less and less appealing when compared to the thought of being among Temari and the kids again.

When the clock struck eight-thirty, he pulled on his coat and left the apartment, ready for the half-hour walk it took to reach the school. He was aware of how cold the desert got at night, but he hadn't anticipated what the first breath of night air would do until he stepped outside and the chill seared his chest.

He flinched and brought up his sleeve to muffle the coughs that followed, shoulders seizing in an effort to stop a potential fit. As the coughs subsided, he thought ironically of Tsunade's warning and how out of all the cold weather gear he'd packed, he'd forgotten to bring a scarf.

Reaching down, he felt for his medication in his pocket. The bottle of pills met his fingers and he tightened his grip on it, assured just in case the coughing got worse. With that, he started down the street alone, turning left at the junction to continue on to the school when he came to an abrupt stop.

A familiar set of pig tails shone beneath the light of a street lamp, rustling in the breeze before the figure turned and noticed him standing there.

"Hey," Temari greeted, breath misting in the night air. "Thought I'd catch you going this way."

He stared at her in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"We split off this way yesterday," she pointed out. "I figured you'd be coming back this route."

When he didn't say anything, she rolled her eyes and moved over to him. "I thought you could use some company, Uchiha."

He was disconcerted by the rush of warmth he felt at her waiting for him and at the fact that he didn't know what to say in response. She saved him the trouble and continued teasingly.

"It's not safe for a foreigner to walk the mean streets of Suna at night, you know."

He managed a smile at that and fell into step beside her. "I appreciate your concern."

"You can tell them that when I'm getting charged with extortion," she said dryly. "But seriously, aren't you supposed to be on medical leave?"

He opened his mouth to reply, only to wince when another bolt of cold air lodged itself in his chest. The stream of coughs that followed this time was stronger than the last. His grip tightened compulsively on the bottle in his pocket.

The fit subsided after a few seconds and he lowered his arm. She was watching him from the corner of her eye. He did nothing to show he noticed and eased the bottle back into his pocket.

"Are you okay?" she asked neutrally.

He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth and steadied his breaths before answering. "I'm fine."

They started walking again and continued on through the next block in silence.

"It's an auto-immune condition," he said after a while.

"I figured."

At his questioning glance, she smiled sardonically. "The guards wouldn't have let you past the border if the paperwork said you were bringing some weird, contagious disease with you."

Despite himself, he smiled inwardly. There was an informality and unspoken assurance there that put him at ease. Her voice had quieted some but hadn't lost its lightness, and she spared him the discomfort of asking further questions about it.

They continued onwards in amicable silence until the school gates came into view and Temari raised her hand to wave to the class. Taro happily entrusted the rambunctious seven-year-olds to her hands and took up the end of the line as they trekked out into the desert.

Once they'd gotten far enough from the city lights, the kids hunkered down in the sand below a clear expanse of night sky. Temari handed him a stack of worksheets to give out while she put them into groups. Itachi raised his head to get a look at the sky, inwardly impressed by the clarity of starlight.

In a land of change and impermanence like Suna, the shinobi had grown especially adept at navigating through their only constants. Temari was no exception and he listened with interest as she began pointing out the constellations.

Taro supervised half the class while he watched over the other, each group working to draw out the constellations Temari pointed out. Some finished sooner than others, and in the five minutes they had remaining to finish their drawings, Itachi was pulled out of the lecture when he felt a tug on his pant leg.

Lowering his eyes, he found one of the girls peering bashfully up at him.

"Uchiha-sensei?"

He blinked, about to ask if she'd lost her worksheet when he caught sight of the group of girls huddled close by. Suddenly concerned, he looked back down at the girl in front of him.

"Did you lose something?"

She shook her head, her smile growing wider. "No. Me and my friends just wanna ask you something."

Itachi cast a wary glance in their direction. He remembered enough of his elementary school days to know the sorts of things seven-year-old girls talked about. Fighting back a sigh, he humoured her.

"What is it?"

Her eyes brightened and she looked excitedly back at her group before blurting it out.

"Are you and Temari-sama married in real life?"

* * *

><p>"All right, guys, into a circle," Temari called, casting a bemused look at the giggling group of girls that rushed past her. They settled next to the others, chattering excitedly, and Temari raised her head to see Itachi making his way over.<p>

"What happened?" she inquired, catching the peculiar look on his face.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

The last of the kids settled into the circle and she moved over to join them. He sat down nearby, listening as she explained how to use the stars as a compass even as occasional giggles floated up from behind him.

Taro eventually shushed them and they spent the next twenty minutes listening as Temari methodically went through the navigation techniques. Her breadth of knowledge was impressive, and he would have liked to listen more if the stitch in his chest wasn't worsening with every passing moment.

When she stopped the lecture to assign them another activity, he took the opportunity to smother another fit of coughs into his sleeve. By the time his chest cleared, he raised his head and found her looking at him. Her eyes swept critically over his frame. Before he could speak, she was unwinding the scarf from around her neck and holding it out. He shook his head and made to push it back, but she insisted until he was holding it awkwardly in his hands.

"Cold can't be good for your lungs," she said, looking at him like he was an idiot. "Cover your face."

He thanked her and waited till she looked away before donning the scarf. She was right, of course; the annoying stitch in his chest dissipated the instant the soft wool overlapped his face and warmed his breaths.

He tried to re-focus on the sky and her occasional comments, quietly listening as she answered the class's questions. It was a hapless attempt. He felt distracted and strangely out of touch with himself. He briefly wondered if his aggravated condition had anything to do with it, but quickly discarded the thought.

The rest of the lesson passed by in a haze of bemusement and aimless thinking. He heard it all but absorbed nothing, preoccupied by the softness and scent of the fabric surrounding his face. He subconsciously reached up to touch it every now and then, making sure it was still in place. When they rose thirty minutes later and started their trek back to the village, he tried to hand it back. She shook her head.

"Keep it. I've got a spare."

The walk back was noisy and crowded as Taro chaperoned most of the kids on their way home. A quarter of the students still remained by the time they reached the fork in the road, and amidst the kids' shrill goodbyes and frantic waves, he managed to see her mouth the word 'later' before the group split off and continued down the opposite street.

He watched them disappear before turning around and heading back to the apartment. When he made it inside, he found the room dark and Sasuke asleep. His brother hadn't even changed out of his work clothes. The blanket lay rumpled on the floor.

He soundlessly removed his coat and changed into his night clothes, taking a moment to drape Sasuke's blanket over him. Then he moved over to his bed and sat at the edge of it, not lying down right away. Instead, he stared at the floor trying to figure out where this unwarranted and intense rush of happiness was coming from.

It didn't work. He was drawing a blank until he raised his head and caught sight of the scarf again. Without fully realizing it, he rose to his feet and retrieved it, returning to bed with it in his hands.

He reclined against the pillows, holding it up in front of him. It was merino wool. Excellent quality. Very warm. He liked it. He'd have to thank her again—maybe pick one up for Sasuke.

After a minute, he set it aside and turned his head on the pillow, trying to sleep. The attempt proved futile.

In the silence of the room, remnants of voices and the whisper of sand crept back into his ears. Afterimages of stars glittered in the back of his eyes.

He soon opened them and lay awake in the dark, listening to his brother's soft breathing.

Another ten minutes passed. Then he slowly turned over and reached for the scarf again. Something stirred in his chest when he drew it close and held it against his lips. His eyes slid closed, lulled by the soft, soporific scent. He felt himself drifting off.

His last waking thoughts circled on the idea that he was in serious trouble and that it all had something to do with the green fabric twined in his hands. Strange, because he really did like it.

He liked it a lot.


	2. Chapter 2

The Hazards of Amity

By: firefly

Note: You guys are awesome. Thank you so much to everyone for their reviews. No worries re: _Sky Runs Red_, as the next chapter of that is going along swimmingly. :D Also, remember when I said this fic was only supposed to be two parts? I lied. |D The fill-in-the-blanks sort of turned into some unexpected plot developments and it got really long again, so expect the final installment after this chapter.

Please enjoy, and remember that reviews are always love!

The Hazards of Amity ch.2

Kankuro stifled a deep yawn.

Sunlight poured through the kitchen window, burning against his closed eyes. The counter was cold beneath his chin and he made a face when a scratch of his head yielded a rain of sand over the granite. At the same moment, the kettle began to whistle and he blearily opened his eyes.

As he pulled it forward for his mug of morning tea, footsteps thumped down the stairs behind him. A moment later, his sister appeared in the kitchen, hair still damp from the shower. She gave him an acknowledging look before following his example and grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

"You got in late last night," he commented, raising his cup to his lips.

She set the mug on the table. "Yeah. Working late to get the specs for the project manager. Pour me some?"

He sluggishly tipped the kettle into the mug. "How many sites left?"

"Last one today."

He gave a noncommittal grunt and they fell into silence for a while. Temari knew him enough to know he wasn't fully coherent until he'd gotten some caffeine into his system, and let him drain half his mug before speaking again.

"I won't be home till later tonight, either. The last site's a bit of a ways off and Taro's bringing the older kids to the greenhouse today."

Kankuro took another sip of the tea and eyed her with interest. "Just you and the Uchiha, then?"

"Yeah."

"God knows how he can stand being around you so much."

Temari rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs before wandering over to the fridge.

"So how's it been, working with him?"

She shrugged. "Fine. He's quiet and polite, which is more than I can say for you. Why?"

"Because he's Uchiha freaking Itachi," her brother replied, as though it was obvious. "Because he's a shinobi legend and a freak of nature. Were you sleeping under a rock this whole time?"

Temari snorted and sat down next to him again. She poured milk into her cereal.

The show of disdain was just to get at him, though, because she'd be lying if she said she hadn't been considerably apprehensive at the thought of partnering with a former Akatsuki—especially when the mission details had identified him as the whackjob who'd killed his whole family.

She dipped her spoon into the cereal and thoughtfully stirred it around. He was as solemn and reserved as she'd anticipated, but there was little else to expect from someone who'd had such a hard life. She would have been more than a little creeped out if he'd been cheerful and outgoing. But despite his withdrawn attitude, she'd found him to be very accommodating and disconcertingly helpful.

She took a bite of the cereal and continued to ignore her brother, letting her mind wander to her work partner. He'd been extraordinarily difficult to read, at first. It had left her somewhat uncertain about what she'd gotten herself into, but she gradually found his stoic nature similar enough to Gaara's to pick up on details that escaped others.

One was the immensity of his love for his brother. There was no other subject capable of drawing cracks in his armour like the mention of Sasuke. Which was a mystery in itself, she thought, because the younger Uchiha was a bit of a brat.

Less obvious were details he hid behind that impassive mask. Extreme loneliness. An understated weariness that went bone deep. And a disposition that, beneath all that diffidence and silence, was unexpectedly kind.

And funny, she recalled with amusement. In a totally deadpan, quaint sort of way that never failed to make her laugh.

There was no real word to describe the enigmatic mishmash of personality traits that was her partner. When it came down to it, only one description fit the bill.

Uchiha Itachi was very, very odd.

Temari checked her expression when she realized Kankuro was watching curiously and shrugged again.

"He's not a show-off," she said at last. "All we've done so far is go to work meetings, give a few lectures and teach the kids navigation techniques." She paused reflectively. "If I didn't know better, I'd say I was toting around a civilian."

Kankuro snorted. "Sounds exciting. I'm surprised you haven't bored him to death, yet."

"For your information," she said, pinching his arm, "he volunteered."

Kankuro cursed and batted her hand away. "Must be a sucker for self-punishment, then."

"You can tell him that yourself," she smirked. "He's helping me out at the greenhouse today."

She missed the fleeting look of surprise that passed over her brother's face. "What? Don't they have enough of that crap in Konoha?"

"Probably. There's a reason they call it the Leaf village."

"Then why...?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's interested in higher learning."

Kankuro raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe he just likes you."

Temari stopped the spoon's ascent to her mouth. She lowered it back to the bowl and looked at him. "What makes you say that?"

"How else could someone stand being around you so much?"

"You're hilarious. It's not like that."

"Right. My mistake. There's no way he'd like a grizzled battle-axe like you."

"You're asking for it, Kankuro."

"Probably not his fault. I heard he was going blind in both—ow, ow, _ow_!"

* * *

><p>Field work had turned out to be a pleasant reprieve from drawing schematics. Sasuke had seemed sympathetic when he'd first mentioned the long, tedious trips he had to take to Suna's borders, all for the sole purpose of scouting ideal trading sites and taking down measurements.<p>

But the frequent sojourns were a welcome break from the hours spent bent over paperwork. The walks were long and tiring, but the air was clearer and easier on his lungs. He had no other obligations out there in the barren desert, and the time away from the bustling village and academy students meant more time with his work partner.

Because even if the work was boring, he thought, glancing over at where Temari was scribbling notes onto her clipboard, the company more than made up for it.

They'd made it to the last, southernmost site on the border with Tani. The dividing line was indecipherable in the sea of sand, non-existent save for the single, blinking beacon nearby. Temari circled around it, examining the area with narrowed eyes.

They'd been working together long enough to anticipate each other's thoughts, and Itachi knew what the downturn in her brow entailed the moment she stopped and examined the terrain.

"The dune's a problem," she decided. "We can't get accurate results like this."

He glanced at it. "We could take the site further south."

She bit her lip. "It's too close to the coast. I guess I could—" she stopped, seeming to consider something before shaking her head. "No, I'd have to go on Tani's side to do it. Can't use ninjutsu outside my jurisdiction."

This time he turned to her. "Ninjutsu?"

"I could level the terrain," she mused out loud. "But if anyone finds out, I could get in serious trouble..."

Itachi did not miss the slow, deliberate way she said the words. He looked at the sand dune with a grave expression. "If it's a matter of discretion..."

She glanced at him over her shoulder, a smile creeping onto her face when those dark, serious eyes crinkled imperceptibly at the corners.

"I won't tell."

Her smile widened into a grin. "Thought so."

With that, she strolled over the border and gestured for him to step aside. He moved a few metres adjacent to her left and watched as she drew out her fan.

"Better cover your face," she advised.

He managed to get the shawl up and around his face the same instant she swung the weapon around in an arc and unleashed a burst of wind. The gust was imbued with her chakra, transforming the wind into a tornado that immediately ploughed through the dune and scattered the sand back into Suna.

Dust billowed in the twister's wake. The rush of dispersing sand was both deafening and blinding. When the cloud finally settled, the dune had completely vanished. All that remained was a flat piece of land close to the bedrock; perfect for the last post.

She smiled in satisfaction and sheathed her fan again. Wordlessly, she tossed him the measuring tape and started forward to record the measurements.

It took about fifteen minutes, and near the end of it she looked at him over her shoulder while writing down the final numbers.

"So my brother's a little star struck by you," she commented offhandedly. "He considers you a shinobi legend. That's high praise, especially for a Konoha nin."

"His opinion is based on hearsay," Itachi replied, rolling up the tape measure. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

She tucked the clipboard into her bag and smirked. "Is that so? How humble of you."

There was a short pause before she continued. "But I have to admit I'm curious. About the rumours, I mean."

He tensed in spite of himself. She hadn't once brought up his history in the two months they'd worked together, and the comment evoked a wave of unease. He spoke carefully, keeping his tone inert. "What would you like to know?"

"It's not so much what I want to know as it is what I want to see." She gave him a shrewd look. "You're supposedly a master of stealth."

He blinked at that, feeling himself relax again. Her scepticism was warranted. Up until now, he'd given absolutely no indication of his skill save for the schoolyard display.

He dropped the tape measure into his pocket. "Then you would like a demonstration."

"If you're up for it," she said, withdrawing her fan again and planting it into the sand by her side. "It's just for my own curiosity, so you've got nothing to prove."

He was pleased she felt comfortable enough to challenge him to a game, of all things. The only other times he'd used shinobi training for anything remotely resembling play was when he'd played hide and seek with Sasuke as children.

"What would you have me do?"

She thought about it for a second, eyes sweeping over the landscape before a faint gust of wind caught her bangs and swept them across her forehead. Her hand came up to straighten them and her face suddenly lit up.

"If you can get one of these in under a minute," she said, touching one of the bands holding up her hair, "I'll give you credit where credit's due."

His eyes lingered on the hair tie, slowly spinning red. "Just one?"

She merely grinned and snapped her fan open, making a beckoning gesture. He reached up and tightened his own ponytail, letting his hands drift leisurely to his sides. Then he disappeared.

Sand immediately sprayed up beneath their footsteps, exploding in a torrent when she hurled a wall of wind in his direction. He dodged, and she did not give him an opportunity for a rebound. A hard swing nearly clipped his side, strong enough to have sent him flying.

It was no surprise after the display he'd witnessed earlier. She was extremely adept with her weapon, a fact made all the more impressive considering the sheer size and weight of it.

She also used the landscape to her advantage, driving up sprays of sand that left trails of his movement where his frame was too quick to follow. The seemingly harmless tactic of blowing him back every few seconds was a clever way to incite fatigue. For her part, she was a little astonished at his speed and efficiency in the unsteady terrain.

An instant later, he was directly in front of her, his clan emblem flickering vividly against the yellow backdrop. Without wasting a second, she swung the fan around and aimed a hard gust of wind straight into the symbol. It was a direct hit, but rather than propel him a good twenty feet away from her, the sharp burst of wind dissolved him into a spray of sand, scattering him over the landscape.

Before the realization hit that it was a bunshin, she heard the shift of sand behind her and whirled around.

Itachi stood in front of her, hand raised. He stopped midway as she pointed the fan at him.

"That's time," she announced.

The Sharingan melted out of his irises and he lowered his hand. "That was quick."

"I have to hand it to you," she said, a note of admiration in her voice as she placed the fan back in the holster. "You had me going all out just to get you out of range."

He smiled slightly and said nothing.

Temari blinked, about to ask what he found so amusing when she heard four simultaneous snaps. Her eyes widened in shock. She instinctively reached for her pigtails, only to feel her fingers slip into loose hair. The severed hair ties dropped to the ground.

"I'm sorry," he said, semi-serious as she gaped and clutched at her hair as though she'd been stripped naked. "Cutting them seemed a better alternative to pulling them out."

She overcame her surprise after a few moments and smiled thinly in defeat. In what almost seemed like a self-conscious gesture, she brushed her palms over her hair before letting them drop to her sides. He didn't think it strange that he found it endearing.

"All right," she admitted, looking down at the hair ties. "I'm convinced."

A gust of wind caught her hair and blew it across her face. She reached up to sweep it out of the way and gave him a curious look.

"Why didn't you just pull them out?"

He looked at the ruined hair ties scattered on the sand and replied with what he thought was the obvious answer.

"Because that would hurt."

Temari blinked, surprised. "Are you for real, Uchiha? It's not like I haven't had worse."

"I don't doubt that," he said, reaching down to gather the bands. "But needless pain is needless pain."

He straightened and held them out. "I'll replace these."

Temari slowly took them from him, giving him an odd look.

"You're really something," she said at last. "How did you cut them, anyway?"

He paused a moment. Then he reached for his back pocket and drew out a kunai. Her eyes widened when she recognized the metalwork and her hand dropped to her thigh holster. It was empty.

"Okay, _now_ I'm convinced," she said in disbelief. "How did you do that?"

It had been so long since someone had asked him to explain something as routine as hand and weapon tactics that he momentarily found himself at a loss for words. It evoked a distant memory of teaching a young Sasuke proper grip and throwing techniques, slowly and patiently through hand and finger manipulation.

He knew no other way, not since he'd improvised the moves himself after observing sleight of hand magic tricks at a festival long ago.

With that thought, he made to hand her the weapon. She blinked and reached out to accept it, only to have it neatly manipulated out of her fingers and into his other hand before she realized he'd moved.

An incredulous smile spread over her face. "What are you, a part-time magician?"

"That was partly an influence," he confessed, handing her the kunai again to show her how he'd done it. "It helped create an effective disarming technique."

She watched with keen interest and stepped closer as he showed her how to maneuver the kunai from an opponent's hand. He went through the motions patiently, feeling himself slip back into the calm, instructive persona he'd used with Sasuke so long ago.

Except it felt different when his fingers touched sure, slender hands instead of the clumsy, pudgy fingers of his brother. Her grip was sure and strong; strong as his, if not stronger. He raised his eyes to her briefly between the steps, noting her slight frown of concentration and the way she impatiently swept her hair from her eyes.

Watching her intent expression and the careful touch of her fingers over his gave him a quiet sort of pleasure he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. Something prickled on the back of his neck; a niggling sense that something was amiss. Before he could ruminate on it, she'd manipulated the kunai out of his hands and grinned in triumph.

"That's a useful trick. Wonder why no one ever thought of it before."

She tucked the kunai back into the holster and he fell into step beside her as they started back to the village.

"Incapacitating the opponent is what you're taught in the academy," he said. "But I find disarmament more preferable."

She didn't reply right away, regarding him with a thoughtful silence.

"Don't take this the wrong way," she said after a while, "but you don't really seem cut out for this line of work."

"You're not the first to say that."

"Then why...?"

His tone was unreadable. "I had the talent for it. It was my duty."

"Duty," she repeated, voice lowering into a mutter. "Duty, huh..."

He heard her tone grow pensive and remained silent.

"The thing about duty," she said eventually, "is it's just a pretty word for a death warrant. They get you in the mindset to make you think you're doing the right thing, and the best part is that once you fool yourself into believing it..." she trailed off, searching the sand underfoot, "you die on them and they teach the same spiel to someone else to keep the pieces moving."

He kept his voice carefully neutral. "Yet we still do it."

She shrugged. "Somebody has to. You can't have peace unless people are willing to die for it—even if they have to justify it with abstract things like honour and patriotism."

"There are worse motivations."

A wry note of amusement entered her voice. "I'll give you that. At least dying for honour will get you a pretty headstone."

She brushed the hair out of her face again and followed his gaze to the sand sweeping beneath their feet. "Surviving is hard," she added. "If you don't die, you spend the rest of your life vindicating what you did while everyone around you hates you for it."

He looked at her, voice quiet. "You don't."

She didn't reply right away, knowing what he was asking her; knowing he was finally asking what he'd wanted to know from the very beginning.

"It takes strength to hate someone," she said at last, all hints of mirth leaving her voice. "And I don't have the energy."

He watched her from the corner of his eye, understanding dawning on him as her hand drifted up to her side.

"You were injured."

"Yeah," she said, resting her hand on the old wound before dropping it again. "During the war. Being that close to death put things into perspective, I guess."

He heard it in her voice, the same listlessness that followed every shinobi who'd been in the war; when the losses had become so great that the crying turned to disbelief, when the fury became so baseless it turned to bewilderment, and the entire spectacle turned from a necessity into an absurdity. Like a bad joke. Leaving the players to turn around and limp home, confused and weakly laughing to cope with the depravity they'd just witnessed.

He'd felt it, too, and the memory was enough to sap the strength from his legs. He slowed his gait and tucked his hands into his pockets, keeping his gaze trained on the ground.

"You were entitled to hold a grudge even before the war."

"I could have held a grudge," she agreed. "Maybe I should hold one..."

He didn't look at her, bracing himself for the condemnation. It was nothing new. He endured it every day at the hands of his own village. But for some reason, the thought of it coming from her bothered him more than it ever had before.

She didn't seem to notice and let out a slow breath instead. "But I'm too tired. And being like this—forgetting about it and moving on—is just easier."

He stared at her, unsure why her words were stirring both hope and agony inside of him.

"Forgiveness comes harder than hatred."

"It does," she said tiredly. "But not when I know the enemy is making the same justifications I am."

He looked at her a little longer before glancing away. Something felt like it was giving way in his chest—a sort of ache he'd never known had been there until it was gone. It hurt sharply and felt like relief at the same time, and he had to wonder at the turn in his fortune for him to find forgiveness and understanding so far from home. He was grateful for it, but the weariness in her voice only drove home the fact that he'd hurt her and countless others, regardless of whether it had been deliberate or unintentional.

"Sometimes," he ventured, no longer aware of who he was addressing, "you can't forget."

He didn't have to say the rest. The question was implicit in his silence. After you'd found redemption—after you'd found forgiveness—how did you move on?

The answer was that you didn't. The haunts would linger. The guilt would stay. And no matter how much he atoned or how much others forgave him, he would never forgive himself.

She thought about it nonetheless and gave a small, helpless shrug.

"Live with it," she said finally. "Eat right. Sleep well. Surround yourself with good people and hope they make it bearable while it lasts. As long as there are others who need you, what else can you do?"

He weighed her response, feeling relief in knowing there was no definitive answer. Her approximation was probably the closest thing to an actual solution. He'd made mistakes there was no coming back from, but as long as there was someone there who understood, the debilitating bouts of agony would lessen into a constant, dull ache; never ebbing, but tolerable.

They were quiet for a long while after that, traversing the empty dunes in amicable silence. It was only when the sight of the village became visible in the distance that she finally spoke.

"Have you ever thought about what you want?"

He looked at her questioningly and she elaborated. "I mean for yourself. After duty. After family."

"I haven't," he said.

When he felt her gaze linger inquiringly on him, he shifted the question to her.

"Have you?"

"I started to," she admitted. "After the war."

She hesitated, sounding sheepish. "It's nothing much. I just think if I can make it to retirement, I'd like to go somewhere green. Botany doesn't get very far as a hobby here."

He didn't say anything, but his eyes softened in amusement. She gave a self-deprecating laugh when she noticed the look and glanced away again.

They lapsed into another comfortable silence for a few minutes, listening to the noisy hum of the village carrying over the wind. When he spoke again, his voice was almost lost in the shift of sand.

"I want Sasuke to be happy."

Temari didn't look up and smiled to herself instead. "Is that all?"

He didn't reply. She shook her head and laughed quietly under her breath. "Jeez. Even when you want something, you're selfless."

The shinobi guarding the front gates caught sight of them approaching and waved in greeting. Temari raised her hand in return, already squaring her shoulders and leaving the discussion behind them.

"Thank you," he said suddenly. "For telling me."

She seemed surprised and a little embarrassed by his solemnity. "Please, it's no big secret or anything. Don't look so serious."

He smiled a little at her flustered expression and left it at that. She had no idea what it meant to him; for her to tell him secrets she thought silly; to give her trust and let her mask slip; and to forgive him, he thought, glancing up at her again. She had no idea what that meant.

They stepped past the gates and into the village, continuing on towards the Kazekage's headquarters. She lifted her arms, stretching them overhead to squint at her watch before letting her arms drop back to her sides.

"The kids will be at the greenhouse soon." She paused, narrowing her eyes at him. "I know what you're going to say."

"Temari-san," he interrupted, letting a little of the seriousness ebb from his voice. "If you want to get rid of me, just say so."

She looked agitated. "You're making me feel like a slave driver."

"It's only slavery if you use coercion."

"Well, is it, then? Am I doing it subconsciously?"

"You've been nothing but reasonable."

She sighed. "I'm going to have to make this up to you somehow..."

You already have, he thought.

She threw him an exasperated look when he only responded with a vague smile. Rolling her eyes, she forged ahead, letting him fall behind. He appreciated the gesture regardless of her intention, because in that moment, he felt strangely like a fawn stumbling through its first steps.

It was only natural, he thought, trailing her from a distance. Walking without the weight of the world would take some getting used to.

* * *

><p>She gave up trying to stop him from helping her over the rest of the week. For some reason, he'd been particularly insistent about it, and she wondered if he was doing it to repay some debt she'd lost track of.<p>

But because she'd never been one to forget that sort of thing and there really wasn't anything that could account for it, she chalked it up to Itachi just being his usual, odd self. Namely hard to read while being strangely considerate.

He was glad she didn't ask. He'd stopped looking for reasons to explain it, knowing only that contentment no longer came in fleeting, tentative phases when he was with her. It stayed within reach, burning slow and steady, and whatever time he did spend alone found him feeling distracted and restless. It had been like this since that night out with the academy students, he'd realized, and even more so after their field excursions.

He didn't question it, grateful for the reprieve from his usual thoughts. And despite her protests, he knew she was equally grateful for the times he stuck around. The eleven-year-olds touring the greenhouse this week were a handful, and his presence had been integral to stopping the little beasts from sabotaging the rare plants.

As he kept an eye on the group clustered around the flowering herbs, one of the boys reached for a cactus placed high out of reach. He froze midway when Temari cleared her throat from behind him. He turned and found her raising her eyebrows at him from where she was elbow-deep in the sink.

"Be careful around that one. It shoots poisonous spines."

The boy instantly backed off.

Snickering under her breath, she brushed her hair out of her eyes and returned her attention to the clay pots. Taro arrived in time to gather them into groups, with Temari rinsing the last of the soap off her arms and leaving the pots to drain. Idly, she shook her hands to dispel the water and glanced around for a towel.

A coarse fabric brushed her hand and she turned her head to see Itachi holding one out to her. She blinked and spared him an appreciative look before accepting it.

He remained next to her as she dried her hands and Taro struggled to get the group in order.

"I'm glad that's over," she breathed, draping the towel over the edge of the sink. "Let's get them to leave without breaking anything else, and then we're free."

With that, she made to move back towards the group, only to stop when he made a gesture towards his face.

She blinked at him, nonplussed.

"You have soap on your face," he clarified.

Temari automatically reached up to swipe it off, catching only air as her fingers brushed over her cheek. She ceased her movements when he reached forward and used the edge of his sleeve to wipe it away.

His face was unreadable when she spared him a mildly surprised look. Before she could speak, a pot fell and shattered somewhere in the back. She flinched. He didn't wait for her to respond and immediately turned away, heading to the back to handle the situation.

Taro called for her by the entrance. Looking away from his retreating back, she weaved her way through the line of jostling kids and met the woman at the door.

"Thank you for being so accommodating, Temari-sama," she said with a grateful bow. "I know this week has been hard."

Temari managed a tired smirk. "You don't have to mince words. I'm glad it's over, too."

Taro gave a sheepish smile in return. As they waited for the last stragglers to fall into line, Taro's gaze drifted over to where Itachi was visible in the back, disposing of the broken shards. Her eyes lingered on him for a few seconds before looking back at Temari. She cleared her throat and spoke casually.

"He's quite handsome, isn't he."

Temari gave her a dubious look. "Who, Uchiha?"

"You don't think so?"

"He's kind of girly-looking to me. But whatever strikes your fancy."

"Perhaps it's my old age catching up to me," Taro murmured, looking thoughtfully in his direction again, "but he seems rather taken with you."

Temari slowly turned her head to look at her. She did nothing to hide the fact she thought the other woman was insane.

"Just a thought," Taro said innocently, waving before following the kids out the door.

Temari raised a hand half-heartedly in return, waiting till they'd disappeared from sight before letting it drop to her side.

"Civilians," she muttered.

The greenhouse felt strangely hollow in their absence, now, quiet except for the gurgle of water running through the pipes. She closed the door and leaned against it, allowing herself a moment to absorb the peaceful silence.

It only lasted a few seconds. The spell was broken by the sound of clay shards hitting the bottom of the trashcan. Temari raised her head to see Itachi dumping the remains of the flower pot. She blinked, berating herself for forgetting he was there, and straightened to go help him.

He glanced up when she came into view, earning a tired smile before she wordlessly knelt to sweep up the dirt. She gently nudged him in the ribs to let her take care of it, too caught up in mourning the loss of fresh soil to notice his gaze lingering on her.

Itachi moved aside, leaning against a nearby counter as she cleaned up. It was strange, he thought, glancing up at the clock. The unrest was beginning to settle in even before he left. He hadn't given it much consideration before, but the feeling was growing far too persistent to ignore any longer.

He watched her, smiling a little at the careful way she lifted the uprooted plant from the floor and placed it in a new pot. Her love for botany was obvious, bringing to mind the secret she'd confided in him so sheepishly a week ago. It was a simple thing she wanted, plausible and fully achievable once she made it to retirement.

The thought prompted him to think of his own response to her question, and his smile faded.

He hadn't given her a proper answer because he didn't have one. Wanting Sasuke to be happy was his greatest wish, but that was for his brother's sake alone. What he wanted for himself was something no one could give him.

He wanted peace of mind. He wanted the lack of ill will. He wanted, on the simplest level, to die, because it was the only thing capable of conceivably granting him those things. But because he could not, because he had a brother who didn't deserve anymore hardship, he would cling to life and bear it.

And he didn't feel like he deserved anything out of life, anyway. Least of all happiness. So he'd never bothered thinking about what he wanted.

He shifted against the counter, tightening his grip on the edge of the sink.

But being here was breaking him. Being here was making him consider possibilities where there'd only been closed doors before. Happiness was real here. Peace of mind felt within reach, and the lack of ill will was evident in every smile and teasing remark she threw his way.

He knew what he wanted without knowing what to call it, and the thought of leaving it for another night was enough to weaken his resolve. He straightened when she finally stood, not sure where the quickening in his chest was coming from and not caring so long as he could stay a little longer.

Because even if he didn't deserve to be happy, he thought, looking at her, it didn't change the fact that he still wanted to be.

Temari dusted off her hands and rubbed the back of her neck, eyes trailing the racks of plants stacked up by the table. "I've been meaning to start cataloguing all the new species. I guess now's a good time as any to start."

He followed her gaze. "Would you be needing help?"

She smiled slightly. "You're polite to ask. But it's okay, I'll be here a few hours. There's a huge backlog of species and I need to cross-check everything."

He glanced askance at her. "It would be faster with two."

She raised an eyebrow. "Uchiha, are you trying to kill yourself? You've been here all week."

"So have you."

"It's really tedious work." She bit her lip. "Are you sure?"

This time he turned to face her properly. "I would be glad to."

She stared at him, face blank. Then the look slowly dissolved into a resigned smile. "Fine, I appreciate it, but this is the last time I let you stick your neck out for me. Have a seat. I'll grab the catalogue."

He pulled out the stool and sat down, watching as she went around the greenhouse shutting off the lights. By the time she was done, only the two dim lamps at the work table remained.

"The circadian rhythms on some of these plants are really sensitive," she explained. "Is this enough light?"

"It's fine."

She glanced at the clock, noting it was nearing eight o' clock. "We'll try to finish by ten. Okay by you?"

"I have nowhere else to be."

She smirked at him before settling down on the stool across the table. Like she'd mentioned, the work was simple and repetitive, relegating him to filling out the records as she read through the divisions, classes, orders, families, genera, and species for the new catalogue.

It would have been more or less identical to the sort of work they did for the trading posts, except for the fact that he couldn't seem to shake the odd bout of restlessness that had taken hold of him. The quickening in his chest had dwindled some but hadn't disappeared, and it was with disquiet and confusion that he realized he felt...nervous.

There was no reason for it. It was the first time they were alone outside of work, but that hardly counted. She was more relaxed than she usually was—discarding her flak jacket and rolling up her sleeves—but that was all.

He tried to ignore it and focus more on the task at hand. Gradually, the sun sank out of sight and the greenhouse grew dark save for the dim table lamps. By the time they moved onto the final set, the star-studded sky was visible through the glass ceiling.

"Ah, this one's interesting."

He lowered his eyes from the ceiling when she carefully lifted a potted plant with small, orange blooms onto the desk.

"Jewelweed. Also known as touch-me-not." She grinned. "Go on. Touch it."

He looked over the plant warily. "That would be contrary to the name."

"Trust me, it's harmless. Just touch it."

She indicated the small seed pod. He reached out and carefully brushed his fingertips against it. The pod instantly exploded. It was more startling than anything else, and he blinked when he felt a tiny seed ricochet off his forehead and onto the floor. She laughed at his surprised expression.

"It's a method of seed dispersal," she explained, pointing to the shattered remains of the pod. "It explodes to scatter seeds farther away. Lessens competition for resources."

She set it aside, then, and went through five more specimens before the racks were finally empty. Relieved, she glanced at the clock again.

"We've made good time. Let's run a quick cross-check, and then we're out of here."

With that, she gathered her catalogue and circled around the desk, dragging her stool and plopping it down next to his. He didn't react when she sat down, nor did he react when she reached out to pull the records closer and brushed her elbow against his.

He sat completely still, face betraying none of the turbulence slowly rising inside of him. Instead, he went along with her instructions and read out the names when she asked, working diligently through the list. As the minutes passed, his throat seemed to squeeze tighter. He found himself having to clear it every now and then so his voice wouldn't crack.

At the same time, his palms started to grow uncomfortably sweaty. He surreptitiously wiped them over his pants when she bent her head to write something down. Oblivious, she leaned over to take a sheaf of paper to his left. The sudden proximity sent heat surging into his face.

"Okay, now the jewelweed," she said, pulling back and glancing at her catalogue. "What do you have for the family?"

He cleared his throat again. "Balsaminaceae."

"Genus?"

"Impatiens."

"Species?"

He looked for the name, only to find it missing from the paper. "It's not here."

"I knew we forgot one," she remarked. "Must've missed it when..."

He stared at the paper in front of him, waiting for her to continue. When no sound was forthcoming, he glanced at her.

She had turned in her seat and sat facing him. He stared back, face blank. Then she suddenly raised her hand and reached out.

His pen went slack in his grip. The feeling that swept over him was like slipping into meltwater and magma all at once. When her fingers actually made contact with his head and slid through his hair, he went completely numb.

She drew her hand back a second later, holding up a jewelweed seed and sounding amused. "When this happened."

Then she flicked it away and turned back to the catalogue. It wasn't until ten seconds later and she was asking for the next set that he realized he was still staring at her.

He managed to tear his gaze away and focused back on the records. The words appeared blurred and he began to wonder what was happening to him. He felt incredibly ill. His head was spinning. His heart was racing. He felt like he was going to pass out.

Maybe he'd been allergic to the jewelweed. Maybe he was going into anaphylactic shock.

But it had been fifteen minutes and his throat hadn't swelled shut and killed him yet. Even so, the only time he'd felt anything even remotely close to this was when he'd suffered a relapse that nearly put him in the hospital. He needed to get out.

"Excuse me," he managed to say, pushing himself to his feet. "I need to step outside for a minute."

"Sure, go ahead," she said distractedly.

Itachi quickly left the greenhouse. The cool, dry air was a boon after the sweltering humidity and he almost immediately began to feel better. The heat drained out of his face and his heart slowly resumed its normal tempo. His hands were freezing, though, and he tucked them into his pockets.

After five minutes, he felt more or less normal again, if not a little weak and shaky. His brow furrowed.

It had been a mistake to overlook his restiveness from the past weeks. The symptoms seemed to have amounted to some psychosomatic reaction, if his little episode in the greenhouse meant anything. Perhaps they were signs of some mental ailment.

He was interrupted from his thoughts a minute later when the door opened behind him and Temari emerged. She let it fall shut, apparently oblivious to the minor panic attack he'd just suffered.

"Finished ahead of time," she said, smiling appreciatively. "Thanks, Uchiha. You saved me two hours extra for sleep."

When he merely stared at her, she blinked up at him.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he finally said, finding his voice. "And it was nothing."

She relaxed at that and stepped past him. "Still, thanks again. Go home and sleep. I'll see you at work on Monday."

He nodded, watching her shrink in the distance until she was gone. Then he slowly turned around and started back to his apartment. The twenty minute walk ended in what felt like five, and he was undressed and ready for bed before he even registered stepping through the door.

Sasuke slept on nearby, undisturbed when Itachi sank onto his mattress and lay down. He stared up at the ceiling, wide awake despite the late hour. It felt like he was standing on the edge of some precipice, on the verge of understanding something profound if he just mustered the strength to step over it.

But because he couldn't understand exactly what stepping over it entailed and was too far past denial to see what lay on the other side, he willed the noise in his head to be silent and closed his eyes instead.

It was several hours before he relaxed enough for the tension to leave his muscles, and he fell asleep listening to the sounds of his heart pounding in his chest.

* * *

><p>Sasuke slept late into the morning, waking only to the sounds of his brother's muffled coughs. He raised his head off his pillow and peered blearily at the other end of the room.<p>

"What's wrong?" he croaked.

Itachi was sitting up in bed with his back to him. "It's nothing, Sasuke. I was careless last night and forgot my scarf."

Sasuke frowned at that and sat up properly. He ran a hand through his mussed hair and blinked a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. Then he stood up. Itachi screwed the cap back onto his bottle of medication as Sasuke walked over to him.

"You haven't been skipping your medicine, have you?" his little brother demanded.

Itachi placed the bottle back in his nightstand. "Of course not, Sasuke."

"Well..." Sasuke stared at him uncertainly, taking in the dark circles marking his eyes. "You look terrible."

"I couldn't sleep."

Sasuke opened his mouth to respond, but Itachi suddenly rose to his feet and looked at him. "You have the day off?"

He blinked and nodded.

Itachi mustered a smile. "Let's not stay home today. I feel a little restless."

* * *

><p>The majority of the day passed by in a haze. He wandered the village with Sasuke, giving his brother no indication of the turmoil simmering inside of him. He felt a little better now that Sasuke was with him, and occasionally he forgot his worries long enough to enjoy making up for lost time.<p>

Although Sasuke no longer got excited in the marketplace or grabbed him by the hand or begged him for a plush toy, remnants of his childhood tendencies still shone through when he stopped at a weapons dealer and asked his opinion first.

Itachi didn't think Sasuke was aware of how many times he asked him what he thought of this or that or if he was better off not buying anything at all, but he treasured the moments just the same—even if he did have to poke Sasuke in the forehead to spite him into making his own choices eventually.

Noon tapered off into evening. The sun burned low on the horizon when they finally stopped at an outdoor patio of a restaurant. Itachi had been amused to discover Sasuke was a bit of a shopaholic once he got into it, a fact the younger boy seemed somewhat embarrassed about when he sat down and realized exactly how many bags he'd amassed.

"I never thought you'd be one for retail therapy."

"It's just clothes and stuff," he muttered, shoving the bags under the table. "I ripped almost everything while working on those trading posts."

They settled in for a small meal, not speaking until they'd finished and the waiter left two cups of tea on the table. Sasuke waited for his to cool, settling for watching the crowds as they walked by.

Itachi observed his expression for a while before finally speaking.

"You seem happy."

Sasuke turned to look at him, taken aback by the sudden statement. "What?"

"Ever since we came here, you seem to be happier."

Sasuke made a peculiar face and looked down at his tea.

"I'm okay," he said, sounding a little awkward. "It's not bad here."

Itachi was both gladdened and relieved by the response. A 'not bad' from Sasuke qualified as a compliment from anyone else. He leaned back in his seat, taking a sip of his tea. A group of kids ran by on the street, breaking the silence with their laughter before the sound tapered off down the road. He watched them idly, not noticing Sasuke's eyes on him till he spoke.

"You seem happier, too."

He turned to him, finding Sasuke regarding him knowingly.

"I know you're happier here," he said, firmer now.

Itachi managed a faint smile, trying not to think of what that implied. "It is pleasant here."

"No," Sasuke said, lowering his gaze to his tea. "It's _better_."

He stared into the cup for a few seconds, working up his nerve before slowly raising his head. His eyes were dark and hopeful. "Maybe we can stay."

Itachi stared at him, expressionless. "What do you mean?"

Sasuke pressed his lips into a thin line. The imploring look in his eyes said it all.

Itachi slowly shook his head and leaned forward to look his brother in the eye. "Sasuke, we belong in Konoha."

"Konoha doesn't care about us," he bit out. "These people have treated us better in two months than the whole year and a half we spent back home. We could immigrate here. We could even take refugee status—"

Itachi placed a staying hand on his wrist, the touch prompting him to loosen his white-knuckled grip on the table.

"Sasuke," he repeated, voice softening, "you know I can't leave Konoha. I may no longer be a shinobi, but I belong there."

"But you're happier here," Sasuke burst out. "You're healthier! Don't you think I've noticed?"

"It's only been two months. Our lives are back home. You have friends there—"

"I don't care about them," he said vehemently. He drew his arm from beneath Itachi's hand, leaning back in his seat. He glared at some point on the ground, struggling to rein in his frustration as Itachi looked at him silently from across the table.

After a few minutes, the verve seemed to seep out of him all at once. He raised his head, looking every bit the vulnerable seventeen-year-old he tried to hide beneath that facade of haughty indifference. The mask was gone now, and Itachi felt something clench in his chest when Sasuke stared at him with haunted eyes.

"I don't care about them," he said, suddenly sounding small, "because they're not you. And you're...better here. I don't have to worry every time I leave the house."

He flinched. "I used to be afraid. I was afraid I'd come home and you'd be—"

He couldn't finish the sentence. Itachi stared at him, throat tight. When it became clear his brother had finished talking, he slowly leaned back into his own seat. His gaze fell to the table.

"I'm sorry, Sasuke."

"It's not your fault," he muttered.

Itachi said nothing. His brother's words had cut him to the bone. He knew Sasuke had grown somewhat dependent on him in the past year, but he'd never anticipated the crippling anxiety the boy felt for his well-being. Sasuke's happiness had always meant more than anything. Sasuke always came first, before duty and before Konoha.

He was silent for a long time before he finally spoke.

"I'll think about it."

Sasuke stared at him, looking as though he couldn't believe his ears. "What?"

"I'll make no promises," Itachi continued quietly, "and I hope you change your mind. But I will consider it."

Sasuke didn't speak, but a noticeably relieved smile flickered on his face. He stood up, suddenly, and Itachi raised his head when he felt Sasuke's hand descend upon his shoulder.

"Let's go," he murmured. "It's getting late."

Itachi slowly rose to his feet, reaching for the scarf he'd draped over the back of the chair. As his fingers brushed the green fabric, the immensity of the situation seemed to sink in all at once. He stopped short. Sasuke glanced at him, blinking when he caught the distracted look on his brother's face.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Itachi said, lifting the scarf and draping it around his shoulders. "I think I'd like to take a walk before I come home. Alone."

Sasuke looked more encouraged by this than put off, assuming his brother needed time to mull over his decision. "All right. I'll go ahead, then."

Itachi forced a faint smile lest Sasuke notice his troubled expression and glanced at the bags.

"Do you think you can manage without me?"

Sasuke snorted and swiped up the bags all at once, throwing a mildly irritated look over his shoulder when Itachi managed to ruffle his hair before he left. He didn't miss the small smile that followed, though, and gradually his own smile faded as he watched Sasuke disappear in the distance.

Turning, he started off down the opposite street, deciding to take the long way around. His brother had given him a lot to think about in the expanse of one night. He weaved through the thinning crowd, unsure where to start.

The chill of the night air settled in thirty minutes later. Without thinking, he reached up to wrap the scarf around his face. The feel of the material brought him out of his reverie, and he slowed to a stop in the middle of the empty street.

As he raised the end of the scarf and looked at it beneath the street lamp, the full force of his restiveness struck him all at once. He gripped the fabric, suddenly seized with the need to see her, to talk to her and have her help him make sense of the sudden confusion uprooting his life; of the way being around her made him feel; of the way little brothers could score a soul full of holes without trying.

The compulsion was ridiculous, of course, because they were just work partners who were only now starting to become friends, and the privacy of the things he wanted to confide in her ran deeper than anything he'd ever told anyone outside of Sasuke. He tightened his grip on the scarf, wondering if he was finally beginning to unravel at the seams. He never had been the same since the night of the massacre. Perhaps madness was finally catching up to him.

_You seem happier, too._

He closed his eyes.

_I know you're happier here._

The scarf slipped from his fingers. He leaned against the wall of the nearest building, his hand coming up to his forehead.

His feet were on the ground but in his mind he was stepping off that precipice, losing touch with his surroundings while forcing himself to look at what had been hiding in plain sight. He would have preferred madness, he thought, shutting his eyes tighter. He would have preferred sickness, if it would've spared him from realizing what the happiness and cold sweats and light-headedness all meant.

He would not say it. He wouldn't even think it, because somehow the thought of giving it a name would deem it irreversible. He'd always had a tendency towards morbid analogies and it was no different this time. It really was like falling—falling through a deep, fathomless pit while any attempt to stop the descent resulted in your nails ripping off.

It was even familiar in the sense that some of the physical symptoms were similar to those he'd felt after he'd massacred the clan. Loss of appetite. Insomnia. Shakiness. But there was one stark difference.

Amidst the respiratory distress, feverishness, and tachycardia he felt when he was around her, he was happy. Deliriously happy.

That was wrong. Itachi did not have the privilege to feel happy, let alone deliriously happy. He felt content sometimes now that he had Sasuke again, but the emotional strain and guilt associated with his brother would forever damper that.

What he felt here was different. It was inconvenient. It was inappropriate. It was most certainly unreciprocated. It was a problem no matter how he looked at it.

So he did what he'd always done when confronted with thoughts of intense torment. He bludgeoned them into submission and tucked the bloody remains into the recesses of his mind. He'd done it before, under much worse circumstances. There was no reason for it to be any different now.

Slowly, he straightened from against the wall and took an even breath. Such violent detachment from his emotions tended to leave him dazed and a little dissociated from himself. He decided to head home. Turning, he tucked his hands into his pockets and continued down the street.

Trying to distract himself, he lowered his eyes to the pavement. Every now and then, he encountered plants peeking through the cracks in the sidewalk. Little weeds. Like the jewelweeds in the greenhouse. Jewelweeds and their exploding pods. Pods that sent seeds flying into his hair. And then he wasn't walking so much as he was reliving the moment she'd reached out and touched him, completely unaware of what it did to him and that he'd been overcome by the irrational urge to touch the touch-me-not and relive the moment over and over and over again.

Itachi promptly vanquished the thought. His brain chemistry was completely off. He knew enough about the subject to recall the symptoms being similar to those common to OCD sufferers. Repetitive, obsessive thoughts. He reached up and pressed his fingertips to his temple, as though to bore them out.

It was disconcerting that he was able to think of such things when the issue of his brother not wanting to go home was the more pressing matter. He tried to focus on that instead, considering what he could possibly say to convince Sasuke that returning to Konoha was the right choice.

As much as it pained him to admit it, Sasuke's words had rung true. Suna had treated them far more kindly. He was happier and healthier. The past two months here had absolved him more than the eighteen months spent in Konoha. But that was all it was supposed to be. A temporary reprieve from the outcast life he'd willfully accepted back home.

He should have tried harder, he realized. He should never have given Sasuke the indication that he was unhappy in the first place. If he'd been more careful, his little brother wouldn't feel that abandoning their village was the only way for them to lead a better life. It was only natural for Sasuke to want to see him happy.

And now that he finally was, the thought of leaving the source behind and resuming a life of clockwork was enough to leave him feeling hollowed out. He thought of her, of the wistful look that passed fleetingly over her face whenever she pored through her books on wild flora.

Konoha would suit her, a quiet voice said inside his head.

Suna simply didn't harbour the rich, fertile soil that gave his village the most diverse array of plant life in Fire Country. His mind drifted to the old vegetable garden in the Uchiha compound. It was barren now, but under the right hands, it could flourish again.

It was also bigger. Much more beautiful and inviting than a greenhouse. He could imagine the look on her face if she were to see it. The open space and fresh air would suit her. The wide halls and the far-sprawling mansion would suit her. Even their clan emblem, in keeping with her chakra nature, would suit her.

She would not have to wait till retirement. He would be happy. She would be happy. And Sasuke would be content to stay home. There would be no reason to—

Itachi came to an abrupt halt when he realized what he was doing.

Fantasizing. And he'd walked two blocks past his apartment.

He stood there for a long moment, staring into nothing before raising his head up to the night sky. He wondered if the universe had a vendetta against him.

After a while, he lowered his eyes and turned back around, starting the slow trek back to the apartment.

His fingers remained against his temple the entire way home.

* * *

><p>Sasuke spent the remainder of the weekend shooting him inquiring looks, but he didn't bring the topic up again. It had to have meant a lot to him, Itachi thought tiredly, for his brother to show such patience. That only made thinking about it even harder.<p>

He thought about the other problem plaguing his mind, too, and decided the dilemma was his and his alone. She had no idea, as far as he could tell, and he intended to keep it that way. Masking his emotions had become second nature, anyway. He would continue on as per usual until the mission was over.

There was no point in considering what would happen afterwards. Jeopardizing one of the few normal relationships he had was not a note he wanted to leave on. He would just have to appreciate what he had right now for as long as it lasted, and get over it when it ended. That was all.

It didn't help that he knew the plan was easier said than done.

Monday morning, he was awake well before Sasuke. Lying in bed only gave him free reign to play with idealistic thoughts he didn't want, and he'd always been taught that occupation was the only cure for a wandering mind.

So he took it upon himself to clean up whatever little mess laid around the apartment and start breakfast. Before he could start the stove, there was a knock at the door.

He blinked, surprised, and left the kitchen to answer it. The door swung open and he stopped short.

"Hey," Temari said tiredly. "You have a minute?"

He stared at her for a second before stepping aside and opening the door.

"Relax," she said, entering and smiling at the wary look on his face. "It's nothing serious. I just came by to tell you there's been a change of plans."

He relaxed his grip on the door frame and let his hand drop.

"What happened?"

"Gaara feels a sand storm coming," she said, reaching into her back pocket. "Businesses are shut down for the day and all field work is cancelled. Nobody's allowed out past eight. I'd advise you to stay here until the dust settles tomorrow morning, but the air filter in this district is broken."

She handed him a slip of paper. "Everyone in this neighbourhood will spend the night in the hospice. Be here by eight with your brother. We'll have our meeting then, and bring whatever else you need to spend the night."

He looked at the unfamiliar address on the paper. "I see. Thank you."

When she didn't say anything else, he looked up and found her staring at him.

"You look tired, Uchiha." A frown passed over her face. "Don't tell me you spent the weekend volunteering at the orphanage or something."

It was funny how easily she could lighten the mood with her blithe remarks. They'd gotten past the point where she constantly had to remind him to loosen up, and she'd come to learn he could give it as well as he could take it. He smiled a little despite himself.

"I've been busy," he said. There was a short pause. "But now that you mention it..."

She made a noise of disbelief and lightly shoved him out of the way. "You're hopeless. I don't care if you're vying for sainthood—just be at the hospice by eight."

She stepped past the threshold, holding the edge of the door to close it behind her. It remained open long enough for him to catch the grin she tossed over her shoulder. "See you later. And tell your brother to put on a shirt."

Then it clicked closed behind her and she left. He stayed by the door, listening to her footsteps fade away. His fingers rose subconsciously to his chest, tracing the place where the feel of her hand still burned.

Moments later, Sasuke's sleep-fogged voice broke the silence.

"What was that all about?"

Itachi turned and found his brother standing at the front of the den, shirtless and scratching his head. His lips twitched.

"Come have breakfast first, Sasuke."

He made to walk back into the kitchen, only to stop halfway and give his brother a pointed look.

"And put on a shirt."

* * *

><p>The villagers were well-versed with handling the sandstorms, Itachi noted, taking in all the tarps on the way to the hospice. They didn't dawdle in finding shelter, either, leaving the district deserted by the time he and Sasuke left the apartment.<p>

The building was only ten minutes away, and by the time they entered the lobby, there were only two people left waiting for them by the reception desk.

Kankuro grinned lazily when he caught sight of Sasuke entering the room. "Hey, junior."

Sasuke scowled at the sight of him. "Tch. It's bad enough I have to see you all day at work."

"I know you don't mean that."

Temari rolled her eyes and exchanged a look with Itachi. "This is Kankuro, if you couldn't tell."

Her brother stopped badgering Sasuke long enough to raise a hand casually in greeting. "Nice to finally meet you. Sasuke talks about you all the time."

Sasuke glared at him.

Temari noticed the look and sighed. "Let's move along. The nurses want the corridors empty by eight-thirty."

Itachi managed to return Kankuro's greeting with a nod before falling into step beside her. Their brothers trailed them from behind, talking in low voices.

"So that's him, huh? I don't see the resemblance."

"Shut up. You look adopted, yourself."

"You could learn from him, you know," Kankuro said, nudging him with his elbow, "he's cool without actually trying."

Sasuke elbowed him back.

They exchanged a few more jabs before the puppeteer flicked a finger and somehow got Sasuke to walk into a wall. Before Sasuke could tackle him to the floor, Temari came to an abrupt stop and turned around.

"Seriously, are you guys five?" she demanded, unimpressed by the sight of them looking poised to pummel each other. "You need me and Itachi to hold your hands?"

They had the decency to look abashed, but that didn't stop Kankuro from pointing a finger. "He started it."

Sasuke looked ready to retort, but a slight frown from Itachi took the words right out of his mouth.

"Look, if you're going to fight, take it outside," Temari said frostily. "But keep it down. This is a hospice."

They looked at each from the corners of their eyes, scowling, then simultaneously turned and left for the exit. Temari shook her head and turned back around.

"Morons," she said under her breath. "You'd think they'd grow up after making jounin."

Itachi felt a flicker of amusement. "The Kazekage is not like his brother, then."

Temari snorted. "No way. Kankuro's got his good points, but Gaara's way more level-headed."

She stopped before a door and reached out to grip the handle. "He's kind of like you, actually."

Itachi followed her into the room, not sure whether he should have been pleased or discouraged by the comparison.

She'd chosen the common room as the substitute meeting place. It looked spacious and comfortable, with several smaller windows flanking the large bay window in the centre of the room. She moved ahead and dropped the work pile on the table, reaching up to rub her shoulder.

"Our rooms are two doors down from here. Feel free to turn in when we finish." She turned around, grimacing at the weight of her fan. "I'll be back in a minute."

He moved aside and let her leave the room, settling for getting the schematics prepared. She didn't take long to return, and he raised his head when she stepped through the door. He blinked.

She'd let her hair down and changed into flannel pyjama bottoms, along with a loose shirt that looked like it belonged to one of her brothers. The pants were bright magenta and had little stars and moons on them.

"Save it," she said, lips twitching when he stared at them. "They're comfortable."

Before he could speak, there was a sudden crash and a spray of glass over the floor. One of Karasu's dismembered arms landed in the middle of the rug.

"Bastard!" Kankuro yelled from outside. "I just fixed that!"

Temari and Itachi stared at the arm, expressionless. Then they looked at each other.

A minute later, Kankuro was choking out curses when Temari snared him in a headlock and hauled him into the building, and Sasuke let out an undignified yelp when Itachi calmly dragged him along by the ear.

The work was delayed with the half hour it took for the boys to clean the mess and board up the window. By the time they finished, it was nearing eleven o' clock and the first tendrils of sand were ghosting up against the windows.

Temari raised her eyes to the ceiling when the lights flickered. "We'll be losing power soon. You can go to bed, if you want."

He filed the papers away and looked at her. "You're not?"

"Later," she said, glancing over at the bay window. "I'm going to stay up and watch the storm for a bit."

When he didn't say anything, she turned back to him. "Have you ever seen one?"

"No."

"They're really something," she said, rising to her feet and pushing her chair in. There was a pause. "Want to stay and watch?"

He stared at her.

No, the calm voice said in his head. You don't. You really, really don't.

"We've got the best view," she continued. "You can stay, if you want."

He should have politely declined and left, but he found himself suddenly incapable of movement.

"I would think you'd be tired of my company by now."

She smirked at him before crossing the room and settling onto the ledge beneath the window. "I could say the same to you, you know."

Itachi couldn't respond to that. So he remained at the table, finding himself at an impasse until she looked away from the window again. "You're going to miss it if you don't hurry up."

He stood up, on the verge of saying he was tired and that it would be better if he went to bed because neither of those things were a lie.

Instead, he left the papers at the table and moved over to join her at the window.

He sat down across from her, looking out at the night sky and approaching storm. It resembled a dark cloud on the horizon, ominous for its sheer size and speed. The spray of sand sounded like a shower of ice against the glass. When it finally hit, the impact was followed by the deep, hollow thud of sand engulfing the building. The lights flickered, then went out simultaneously.

The sight was humbling. They watched in silence for several minutes, engrossed. Occasionally, moonlight shone through the breaches in the storm, casting flickering shadows that reminded him of wing beats. The light was ghostly and intermittent, gradually dwindling with the full advent of the squall.

Eventually, she reached out and placed her hand over the glass, watching mist collect around her fingers.

"I never really understood how strong Gaara was until I saw one of these close up," she said. "You can feel it through the glass."

He looked at her before glancing back at the window. His hand rose from his side and came to rest on the pane. The window vibrated gently beneath his palm, shuddering at the brunt of the storm.

Darkness descended upon the room again and he felt her fingers encircle his wrist before he could see it. She moved his hand higher up the glass, taking it to where the sand was most salient. Light spilled fleetingly through the storm, illuminating the sight of her hand on his before her fingers loosened and dropped to her side.

The light ebbed once more, giving into perfect darkness. He didn't notice it, not even when his hand slid off the pane and back onto the ledge. His fingers tingled. He closed his eyes, knowing it wasn't from the storm, and tried to attribute it to something else. It felt like—

Paresthesia, he told himself, interrupting the train of thought. Like nerve damage. Poor circulation. Low blood sugar. Slow poisoning—

And it was there in the black pitch that clarity came through sudden and spontaneous. He could tell her there in the dark; tell her that she was mangling him; that she brought to mind morbid visions of self-hurt that nonetheless inspired something like euphoria because she was the source.

His fists went slack. He felt like he was standing outside of himself, fully aware that every second he continued to sit there was a grievous mistake; that he should have risen and retired for the night to give his heart reprieve from the tumultuous refrain it was beating inside his chest; that his pulse was reaching unprecedented tempos as he subconsciously leaned forward.

He didn't understand the compulsion. He didn't know what he intended to do except be close to her; to fill her vision and her space till the darkness swallowed them and her back pressed the wall. The tingling spread up his arm and through the rest of him until it burned at his mouth, and he knew what he wanted to do.

He could feel it before he imagined it. Her hair grazing his knuckles, her lashes brushing his cheek. The nudge of her nose against his, because he'd never done this before. Then what he couldn't imagine because it felt so frighteningly intense it made his vision swim.

Outside, there was a break in the storm and moonlight leached through the glass. The light threw her features into relief and the delusion abruptly burst. He flinched, feeling something clench in his chest, and turned away to smother a sudden fit of coughs into his sleeve.

She blinked in surprise. "Are you okay?"

He managed to steady his breathing after a minute and nodded, keeping his back to her.

There was a brief silence before she rose from the windowsill and spoke.

"Wait here. I'll be back in a minute."

He remained still as she walked away, not moving until she left the room. Then he brought his hand up to his face. The feeling was spiralling out of control. It felt like swiping at vapour and trying to contain it while wisps seeped uncontrollably through his fingers. Like a gas leak. The end result being a destructive fireball that would incinerate whatever little stability he had in his life.

His grip tightened on the ledge. He spent the time it took her to return forcing himself back into a state of calm, not moving from the window until the door opened and she stepped into the room again.

"Here."

He raised his head, eyes settling on the paper cup she held in her hands. At his questioning look, she pursed her lips and glanced down at its contents.

"It's ginger lemon tea. Our maid used to make it for us when we got sick. Not sure if it'll help, but...it can't hurt."

He slowly stood up from the windowsill and accepted it from her.

She was watching expectantly, so he reluctantly took a sip. It tasted horrible. So horrible, in fact, that he choked a little while swallowing. Her eyes widened when he broke into another coughing fit and turned away from her. The next several seconds elapsed in a stream of concerned exclamations and him futilely trying to assure her he was fine. She valiantly attempted to stop the coughs by offering him the cup again, but when he shook his head, she placed it down and brought her hand up to his back.

He stilled.

"Sit down," she said, frowning at him. "I'll go get a medic."

He kept his gaze resolutely on the windowpane. "That's not necessary."

Her eyes narrowed and the hand dropped away. He let himself breathe again and spoke when she turned to leave the room.

"Temari-san."

She paused, throwing him a look.

"I'm fine," he repeated for the fifth time. Before she could open her mouth, he interrupted.

"The tea..." there was a lengthy pause as he tried to think of the most tactful way to say it. "It's awful."

She blinked in disbelief. "What?"

He said nothing, merely glancing at the offending drink from the corner of his eye.

Sceptical, she made her way back over and took the cup from the windowsill. He watched her as she took a sip of its contents. There was a moment of silence. Then she spat it back into the cup.

"Yeah," she said a few seconds later, frowning again. "It is awful."

There was another stretch of silence. Then she glanced at him and found him staring back at her, except with the barest hints of a grimace lingering in his features. For some reason she found it hilarious.

Itachi watched her, growing increasingly bewildered when a smirk quivered on her lips, before a snicker escaped her. Then she was full-out laughing. He felt partly relieved because she still seemed oblivious, but when she amiably placed her hand on his shoulder to usher him out, he had to clench his jaw to fight the unbidden urge to take hope and tell her.

_Because maybe_, the irrational, idiotic part of him was saying. _Because maybe. Because maybe. Because maybe._

The moment never came, and she bid him goodnight in the hall before disappearing into her room.

He left for his room right after, feeling strangely numb as he changed into his night clothes and lay down on the small cot.

The room was silent save for the gentle rush of sand skittering over the window. He listened to it, half-aware until the sound faded into quiet footsteps. He turned his head towards the wall when the creak of bedsprings followed.

Immediately, he turned his head back to the ceiling, laying still and breathing evenly in an effort to take his mind off the presence in the next room. The attempt was short-lived. A quiet series of taps broke the silence and he turned his head towards the wall again. It took him only a moment to realize she was tapping out a message.

Bemused, he listened, stringing the words together when the tapping finally ended.

_did you want more tea_

He didn't even need to answer. The message evoked a powerful memory of the taste and his throat tingled. He coughed before he could stop himself.

Muffled laughter seeped through the cracks. He listened to it as it tapered off, a faint smile tugging at his lips. There was a brief pause before she started tapping again.

Carefully, he shifted onto his side. His eyes trailed the wall, settling on the spot where the final taps resounded.

_Feel better_, they said. _Sleep well_.

Then there was silence. The whisper of sand gusting over the building crept back into the room. He half-listened to it, eyes tracing the flickering shadows. He could hear his heart beating in his temple.

Slowly, he reached out and rested his hand over the wall.

He couldn't have slept even if he'd wanted to.

* * *

><p>Morning crept in through the haze of settling dust. The sounds of shoveling and tarps being shaken floated into the room through the window. Temari opened her eyes to a crack of light splaying over her face, closing them again with a groan when she realized she'd slept in.<p>

As if on cue, a loud knock sounded on the door.

"Hey, Temari," her brother's voice floated through the cracks, "aren't you supposed to see Gaara in half an hour?"

"I'm up," she mumbled, dragging herself out of bed. She reached for the door and pulled it open, squinting up at Kankuro. "Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

"I tried," he said, shrugging as he followed her back to the common room. "But you were knocked out. You and your boyfriend stay up late last night?"

"Shut up. I was tired."

He watched in amusement as she quickly swept her belongings into her bag and moved over to the table to gather the folders.

"Where are those two, anyway?" she asked without looking up.

"They left an hour ago," he said. "Want me to tell Gaara you'll be late?"

"I'll make it," she insisted, haphazardly sweeping her folders into a bag. "Go ahead without me. I'll catch up."

"Right. I'll tell him to wait ten minutes and order breakfast. Your hair needs help."

Temari threw a book at him and he managed to dodge it on his way out, his laughter echoing down the hall.

Making it a note to punch him later, she reached for a stack of papers and paused at the sound of crinkling plastic. Bewildered, she brushed aside the sheets and reached for the irregularly shaped object tucked underneath.

A small, disbelieving smile spread over her face.

The papers were set back down. Then the plastic crinkled once more before falling away to the table. She stood there and looked at the twelve new hair ties resting in her hand.

"Dork," she muttered softly.


	3. Chapter 3

The Hazards of Amity

By: firefly

Note: Finally! Jeez, I realise I should never make assumptions about the lengths of my fics because I always end up being wrong. So yeah, this was supposed to be the last chapter. SUPPOSED TO BE. But it got so absurdly long that I tore out my hair and split it in two. But, good news for you guys who wanted another chapter, because that means there is one more left after this one. |D

I'd like to thank everyone for reviewing and sticking with me so far. And special thanks to wingedmercury for moral support and for providing a wonderful playlist.

Anyway, without further ado, please read and enjoy, and remember that reviews are love!

The Hazards of Amity ch.3

The shadows ebbed and turned, slowly changing direction over the paper as his pen scratched down to the end of the margin. The glare dimmed on the windowsill and the muffled notes of music hummed through the glass. He'd heard it playing all day.

The status report was finished and sealed a minute later. Itachi stood up, making his way into the living room. Sasuke gave him an acknowledging look from where he was stretched out on the sofa, eating dinner. He wordlessly offered his box of takeout.

Itachi shook his head and glanced at the clock. "You're late today."

Sasuke shrugged and continued picking at his meal. "Traffic."

At that, Itachi moved closer to the window and peered out at the surrounding streets. From his vantage point, he could make out the sight of booths and stalls set up in the village square. People rushed to and fro, carrying boxes of merchandise and fireworks.

"There's a festival going on," Sasuke said from behind him. "The guys at work have been talking about it all day."

Itachi glanced over his shoulder. "You're not going?"

Sasuke made a face and didn't reply.

Itachi turned to face him fully. "Did they invite you?"

"Yeah," Sasuke said, avoiding eye contact, "Kankuro said something about a guys' night out. I told them I wasn't interested."

Itachi gave his brother a long, meditative stare, persisting until Sasuke fidgeted and raised his head with a frown.

"What?"

"You should go."

"I said I wasn't interested."

"Sasuke," he said knowingly, "I'll be fine home alone."

Sasuke's facial expression didn't change, but the twitch in his brow gave him away.

"Go," Itachi repeated, before he could protest. "You won't get opportunities like this often."

Sasuke seemed uncertain. "What about you?"

Itachi moved away from the window and to the closet to get his jacket. "I have to meet with Temari-san for work."

"Right now?" Sasuke said in surprise. "Everybody else is off."

"It was the only time available," he said, pulling on his jacket.

The sandstorm from weeks before had done its share of damage and the majority of the following days were dedicated to the clean-up efforts. Temari had been placed in charge of the crews and had been forced to cancel their work meetings.

The delay hadn't been much of a concern. All that remained to do was prepare for their presentation to the council. All she needed from him was an hour.

Just an hour, he thought, relieved and a little disheartened. Only an hour. And then he could return home to an empty apartment and resume thinking on how to escape an already hazardous situation.

He schooled his features into an unreadable expression when he felt Sasuke's eyes follow him to the door. He placed his hand on the knob and glanced over his shoulder.

"Try to enjoy yourself, Sasuke."

"Try being the operative word," his brother muttered. But a small smirk was forming on his lips, one he tried to hide when he raised the takeout box in front of his face again. "Don't wait up."

Itachi gave him a smile in return and stepped out into the hallway. The door clicked closed behind him and he made his way down to the lobby and out of the building.

When he emerged onto the street, the music floated out in the clear. Tiny, decorative lights looped around the street lamps and the smells of festival foods permeated the air. Groups of formally dressed children and adults traversed the sidewalk ahead, their laughter drifting back to him after they disappeared around the corner.

He took a moment to absorb the atmosphere, feeling a swell of nostalgia in memory of Konoha. Wistful, he lowered his head from the lights and started in the opposite direction towards the administration building.

The streets were practically deserted in the upper districts. The cafes and stores were closed and the few people he did encounter were heading past him towards the village square. Few lights remained lit from within the administration building when it came into sight and the lobby was deserted when he entered. Every door was locked save for the staff room near the end of the hallway.

He quashed the uprising of nerves as he approached, stopping short at the threshold when he found the room empty. His eyes settled on the stack of folders and the shoulder bag resting on the table nearby. At the same moment, a door opened on the opposite end of the building and laughing voices spilled out into the hall.

There was a jerking sensation in his chest when he recognized one of them as Temari's. Steeling himself, he left the door slightly ajar behind him and took a seat at the table. The room was fairly nondescript, offering little distraction save for a retirement banner and a bouquet of desert poppies in the corner.

There was a calendar tacked up nearby. He traced the dates, scanning the days that had elapsed since the night of the sandstorm.

It had been an overestimation of himself to assume that the time away from her would give him an opportunity to get his emotions under control.

He'd never been so wrong in his life. What he was experiencing didn't feel so much like infatuation as it did a severe mental disorder. He'd found himself feeling nervous for reasons he couldn't explain. Sleep eluded him. He had difficulty focusing on things. Sasuke had even asked him once or twice if he was feeling all right. And through the entirety of it all he forced the feelings down, pounding them into submission until he was left feeling drained and hollowed out.

The effort had been tremendous, he reflected tiredly, and ultimately pointless, because just the sound of her voice was enough to bring the feelings rushing back.

Her voice was suddenly next to the door, and he caught her waving goodbye to someone before she entered the room.

He glanced askance at her. Then openly stared.

She turned just enough to call out to the departing figure. "Thanks for handling it, Matsuri. I'll put in a word for you with the Kazekage."

The muffled voice shouted something back to her. Then she turned back around and closed the door, clearly amused. She looked the same as she always did, donning the typical black shinobi-wear sans the flak jacket, but her face was flushed and her eyes bright with mirth. She held a pink popsicle in her left hand and a stack of photographs in the other.

The sight was so incongruous that he found himself incapable of doing anything but staring. She noticed him an instant later and immediately pressed her lips together. Her mouth was stained a vivid pink.

"Hey," she greeted, slightly out of breath. "Did I make you wait?"

He opened his mouth to answer and found it incredibly dry. Blinking, he swallowed and forced his face into its usual, placid expression. "Not at all."

She made her way over, sticking one end of the popsicle stick in her mouth as she sat down and opened the folders.

"That was Matsuri," she said, struggling to control her grin. "There was a 'situation' in the town square. Had to check it out and run back."

He nodded, his gaze taking on a curious look. Her expression brought to mind the elated faces he'd passed by on his way to the building, along with the realisation that the festival must have held some significance to the citizens of Suna. The effect it had on her was rather remarkable. Everything about her appeared softer. Livelier.

It was infectious, as well, because he soon felt the nerves slowly loosening their hold. He lowered his eyes to the photographs in her hand and spoke.

"I assume it was nothing serious."

She muffled a snort and handed him the pictures.

"An ice cream vendor had a little too much to drink," she explained, smirking around the popsicle stick again. "Got into a scuffle with another civilian and...well...let's just say we got called in for indecent exposure."

Itachi said nothing, staring at the evidence in the photograph. At this point she had to muffle another snort of laughter.

"A couple of shinobi subdued him, but not before he got in a few shots at us," she said, tapping the end of the popsicle for clarification.

His lips twitched at her tone. "Was there collateral damage?"

"Worst I've ever seen," she said, trying to sound serious and failing miserably. "Ruined at least ten yukatas. Nearly got some in my hair."

She reached up as she said it, pausing when her fingers touched one of her pigtails.

"By the way," she said suddenly, "thanks for these."

He raised his head, finding her touching one of the hair ties holding up her hair. A moment later, he lowered his eyes back to the map he'd spread onto the table, wondering if she could see through his impassive mask into the well of happiness burgeoning up inside of him.

He shook his head. "It was—"

"Nothing, I know," she finished for him. The smile on her face was a cross between surprised appreciation and amusement. "Still. I didn't expect you to follow up on that offer."

He could have said anything in that moment, most of which would reveal the real reason behind the gesture and change everything. But despite the temptation, he repressed the impulse and looked pointedly at the map.

"The draft is finalised. We can review it now."

Her expression cleared. "You finished it?"

"Yes."

"Great," she breathed thankfully. "Let's get this thing over with."

He nodded and handed her the folder, quietly acknowledging that he'd lost his chance because she was as efficient, dutiful, and hard-working as he was. Work was a priority above all else, and though it was what he'd hoped for to spare himself the agony of his own imagination, he found himself feeling a twinge of disheartenment for the second time that night.

The hour passed far too quickly like he'd expected. The project was finished just before nine o'clock, with a sense of finality that seemed to escape her as she reached over and gave a congratulatory pat to his shoulder.

"Mission accomplished, Uchiha. Thanks for all the help." She dropped the folder into her bag and dusted her hands of it. "Bet you can't wait to send that last status report off."

He managed a half-smile and said nothing, instead turning to pack his bag.

She didn't seem to notice his reserve and packed her bag alongside him, remaining silent until he pulled on his jacket and rose to his feet.

"Hey."

He turned to her.

She was chewing the end of her popsicle stick, regarding him thoughtfully. "Are you doing anything after this?"

He blinked. "No."

"How about your brother?"

At that, he smiled inwardly. "He's gone out for the night."

She smirked and tossed the stick into the trash can. "Then that makes two of us. Kankuro and Gaara have been ditching me for the past two years. Something about a guys' night out."

He watched her pull on her jacket and hesitate.

"I owe you one for all your help and I don't feel like going home just yet. Wanna go grab some dinner?"

A prolonged silence settled upon the room. She was looking up at him expectantly, oblivious to the storm of turmoil festering inside his head as he stared back. At last, he spoke, voice stilted.

"I couldn't—"

"Please," she interrupted, rolling her eyes. "It's the least I could do. Plus you look like you need a break."

He remained silent for several seconds. Then he reached up and touched his jacket.

"I don't have anything more formal than this," he finally said.

She stared at him incredulously.

The inanity of what he'd said only sunk in once he took in what she was wearing. He'd never seen her deviate from her black jounin attire and formality obviously meant very little to her after she'd spent the night working with him in her pajamas.

As if reading his mind, a smirk spread over her face. He watched as she rose to her feet and strode over to the bouquet of desert poppies. Before he could react, she turned around and tucked one of the yellow blooms into the lapel of his jacket.

"There," she said dryly. "Fancy enough?"

He lowered his eyes to the flower. It stood out garishly against his dark clothing. Despite himself, a smile flickered on his lips and he raised his head. "Now you're underdressed."

She made a face. "Jeez. Konoha folk are a prissy bunch."

She turned her head to scan the room, scratching her chin thoughtfully. Her gaze fell on the bouquet again. Before she could speak, Itachi stepped towards it and tugged loose the gleaming, blue ribbon tying the stems together.

She blinked, a little surprised, before mirroring his look of amusement and raising her arm. Reaching out, he took the ends of the ribbon and tied them around her wrist.

"Good enough," she said, examining it with approval. "Now that we're dressed appropriately, ready to go?"

It was strange how something as simple as her levity could keep him from dwelling on the implications of what he was about to do. This went beyond helping her at the school or the greenhouse, he realised. Considering the state he was in, it was the last thing he should have been doing.

But it only took one look at her expectant expression and the ribbon dangling by her side to completely silence the dissenting voice in his head.

Without further consideration, he opened the door and gestured for her to lead the way.

* * *

><p>The first stop was dinner. But the location ended up being far removed from the small, hole-in-the-wall place he'd been expecting. In hindsight, he felt he should have exercised a little more caution in following her lead for the night.<p>

The restaurant was in the middle of the village square, close to bursting with drunken patrons who cheered their welcome when she stepped through the door. He was initially wary, unused to walking into crowded places, but the tension left his shoulders when he realised practically everyone was too drunk to spare him a second glance. Most of their attention seemed focused on his company, anyway.

"Temari-sama, we were waiting for you!"

"Come sit with us!"

"Temari-sama, lemme buy you a drink!"

She waved them away good-naturedly, exchanging a few words with some of the jounin as a table was immediately cleared for her. She seemed used to the attention, he thought, following her to a corner booth. For his part, seeing the respect and admiration the others had for her was strangely pleasing.

They slid into their seats and the clamour faded into the background.

"Don't worry about them," she said knowingly, without looking up from her menu, "they're too wasted to take much notice of you."

"Your presence seems to have some influence," he said.

She smirked, shrugging a little. "I'll admit it, being a higher-up has its perks. The food's always made fresh, for one."

The waitress arrived just as Temari finished speaking, prompting the private smirk she sent across the table. He followed suit when she quickly made her order, catching onto the fact that she wanted to eat and leave as soon as possible.

The restaurant was packed full of her colleagues and incredibly noisy on top of it. It was inevitable some of them would attempt to swoop in and pull her into their group. She seemed intent on bolting before that could happen, and he'd hardly finished the thought when a group of jounin took notice of her from across the aisle and invited themselves over.

"Hey, Temari-sama! Long time no see!"

Temari pushed away her empty plate, giving him a veiled grimace before looking up at her very drunk friends.

"Hello, Jiro."

"What are you doing here by yourself?" the jounin exclaimed, sounding offended on her behalf. He, along with a few of the others, then looked at the silent, dark-haired man sitting across from her.

"Who's your friend?"

Temari smiled thinly. "His name's Itachi. He's a delegate from Konoha."

"Konoha?" Jiro repeated, squinting at the insignia above Itachi's brow. "Ohh, _Konoha_! Why didn't you say so?"

He plopped down into the seat next to him and Temari nearly spat out her water when he slung an arm around Itachi's shoulders.

Itachi remained unruffled by the physical contact, initially taken aback but put somewhat at ease when he saw the man up close. Jiro, for all his drunkenness, smiled affably and meant no harm, a fact that became clear when he turned to Temari with a pout.

"We owe a lot to these guys. A Konoha nin saved my ass during the war, you know? Where've you been hiding him, Temari-sama?"

Before she could answer, Jiro turned back to Itachi.

"How long you been here, friend?"

"About three months," Temari interrupted from across the table. "Hey, Jiro, I think the bartender's calling you about your tab—"

"Three months?" he echoed, scandalised. "And we're meeting him now?"

"Did you initiate him yet?" a kunoichi piped up from the group.

Temari blinked in disbelief. "Are you crazy?"

"You mean he hasn't done it yet?" Jiro demanded.

"Of course not. He is _not_ doing the—"

"_Ghost pepper challenge_!" they bellowed all at once.

Jiro abruptly released him and stood to the side, leaving Itachi staring bemusedly at Temari's dismayed expression until the waitress came over with a tray.

"No," Temari said firmly when she saw what she was holding. "This is stupid. What are you guys, genin?"

Jiro looked wounded. "It's a privilege, Temari-sama. Anyone who can do this becomes a honourary Suna shinobi."

"Jiro, that's a load of bull and you know it."

Itachi discreetly looked between the two of them, taking note of Temari's agitation and Jiro's eagerness. Then his gaze flitted to the tray in the waitress's hands.

"What is it?" he finally asked.

They stopped arguing, looking back at the table where the waitress had rested the tray. Itachi stared at the single, scarlet pepper lying innocuously in the centre of the plate. Realisation dawned on him without having to ask.

Temari rolled her eyes. "Seriously, you don't have to do this. Don't listen to these guys—"

"Konoha and Suna are more than just allies now," Jiro interrupted, looking at him intently. "Consider this a rite of passage to becoming an honourary Suna shinobi."

Temari sighed and brought her hand up to her face as the others broke out into cheers of encouragement.

"Go for it, Konoha!"

"Do it!"

"Don't let us down!"

Temari slowly rubbed her temples, ignoring the hollering and counting to ten in preparation to take Itachi and run. She released a breath and looked up, about to tell him to grab his coat when she saw him nonchalantly take the pepper and put it in his mouth. Her jaw slackened in shock.

He chewed it without fuss, eventually swallowing whatever remained. There was no reaction for several seconds.

Temari marvelled at his composure. "How do you feel?"

He cleared his throat and blinked at the table. After a few seconds, he opened his mouth to respond and closed it again. She noticed the slightest twitch in his features. Then he suddenly brought his hand to his mouth, scarlet erupting across his face.

Temari immediately seized the glass of water and reached across the table. "Sora, yogurt!"

The waitress scurried off to get it and the surrounding onlookers burst into laughter. She had to hand it to him, Temari thought inwardly, forcing the drink into his hand. Besides the occasional cough, he didn't make a sound.

It was also kind of alarming, knowing his medical history, so when a bowl was thrust into her hands, she didn't hesitate in yanking the glass out of his grip and shoving the yogurt under his nose.

By the time the initial panic subsided and he'd more or less gotten a hold of himself, she realised they'd knocked over a drink, she was leaning across the table fanning him with a menu, and he'd accidentally gotten yogurt smeared on his chin.

There were several seconds of stunned silence. Then Temari fell back into her seat, hand coming up to cover her mouth as Jiro and the others descended on him in an onslaught of cheers and back slaps.

Through the throng of chaos, he could make her out at the other end of the table. The pandemonium became an afterthought and all at once the sight of her face made the pain of the deafening noise, the barrage of back slaps and the burning sensation in his throat all worth it.

She laughed so hard she cried.

* * *

><p>They managed to escape the restaurant around 9:30 PM, much to the protests of her friends.<p>

There were so many others she could have spent the evening with, he thought, watching her say goodbye to her comrades at the door. So when she turned away from them and came jogging back to him instead, he felt a peculiar, warming sensation in his chest that had nothing to do with the ghost pepper.

"That was a mission," she said amusedly, casting a final wave back at the restaurant before continuing down the street. "Who knew you'd be such a hit."

He cleared his throat slightly. "The pepper ritual seemed to help."

She laughed again and shook her head in disbelief. "I still can't believe you did that. But now that's you're an 'honorary' Suna shinobi, how do you want to celebrate?"

He paused at that, eyes following the trail of decorative lights to the booths set up in the Square. She followed his gaze, raising an eyebrow.

"Dango?"

"If you'll have some."

"Sure," she agreed, starting forward. "And if you're up for it, let's grab a drink and ditch. I can't go two steps without—"

"Temari-sama!" one of the booth owners called excitedly. "Please try our newest flavour of dango. On the house!"

Temari stared at him blankly before turning towards Itachi with a helpless look.

He shook his head, amused. "That one is fine."

Temari went over to the eager owner to make the order, letting him wait nearby and scope the surroundings. The Square was a melee, noisy and cheery and teeming with people in brightly coloured clothes who passed by him without a backwards glance. He watched them idly, feeling a sense of liberation at being able to stand out in the open like this.

It brought to mind old memories of Konoha, when he and Sasuke had trawled the festivals looking for crooked game vendors. Sasuke would stop and point them out and Itachi would make his way over and give them a run for their money. Undercover, of course, because it was a general rule that shinobi didn't compete in civilian games.

He found his gaze drawn to a booth at the end of the row. A mother stood with her young son, trying haplessly to pop balloons with a dull dart. It was a common trick. Old but effective.

Temari glanced curiously at him when she noticed him reaching up to untie his forehead protector. "What is it?"

"I'll be back," he said simply, then dropped it into his pocket and walked off towards the gaming booths.

Temari stared after him, a bemused look flitting across her face when he stopped next to a mother and her child and said something she couldn't hear.

"Your dango, Temari-sama."

She blinked and turned to the vendor, accepting her order and forcing the cash into his hand. By the time she turned back around, Itachi was already heading back to her, hands in his pockets. The little boy and his mother were waving after him. Temari looked at the kid. He was holding an enormous dinosaur plushie in his arms.

Itachi came to a stop next to her and waited expectantly for her to lead the way. She gave him a long, meditative look instead.

"I can't believe I was going to punch you in the face when I first met you," she said at last.

He realised she'd witnessed the little exchange and glanced back at the departing mother and child. The little boy was still waving wildly in his direction. He smiled inwardly and turned back to her.

"It was a tradition back home," he said. "Sasuke was my spotter. The festivals usually have their share of scammers."

She looked intrigued. "I never got to play one of these myself, but Kankuro told me the same thing. Who else?"

He turned his attention to the vendors, scanning the games until his eyes settled on a corner stand. She followed his gaze, raising her eyebrows. "That one?"

"The pins are weighted," he said, watching the customers try futiley to knock them down. "They can throw as hard as they want, but they won't win."

She watched the game for a few seconds. Then she handed him her dango and started towards it. "Come on."

He followed, wondering what she intended to do when everyone, including the civilians, knew very well who she was.

But she stopped a fair distance away from the game, blending in with the few spectators. A man was trying repeatedly to knock the pins down while his young daughter looked on hopefully from behind. Itachi watched her from the corner of his eye, mildly curious as he took in her relaxed stance. Then, just as the man raised his arm for his last throw, she formed a seal behind her back and took a deep breath.

The ball hit the pin dead on, along with a freak burst of wind that came out of nowhere. The pin tilted onto its edge, wobbling, then fell off the pedestal and onto the ground.

"Yes! I did it!" the man cheered, scooping up his daughter who eagerly reached for the biggest toy. The vendor reluctantly handed it over, scratching his head as Temari walked away with a satisfied smirk.

"Clever," he said, handing her back her dango.

"I can see the appeal," she admitted. Her gaze moved behind him, a smile flitting across her face as she watched the father and daughter walk away with a giant stuffed animal. He was a little surprised to see a wistful edge to it.

"Come on," she said, before he could speak. "Let's get out of here."

He fell into step beside her as she started away from the Square, taking a moment to glance back at the bright lights before departing into one of the darker streets.

"Hope you don't mind," she said after a while, when the noise had faded in the distance and they were walking through a quiet neighbourhood. "Leaving the festival, I mean."

He shook his head, feeling the cool metal of his forehead protector in his pocket. "I would be pushing my luck."

"Still..." she trailed off, slowing to a stop at the end of the street. He paused, stopping next to her with an inquiring look. She was gazing thoughtfully out at the horizon.

"There's this old lookout," she said suddenly. "Out a little further west. I go there sometimes on my nights off."

He stared at her, realising what she was implying but not really believing it until she spared him a furtive look.

"Want to head there for a bit?"

Within the sleeve of his jacket, his fingers slackened around the dango skewer. A slew of interpretations ran through his head, none of them feasible and all of them taking her words as something more than they were. The voice in his head remained silent, long resigned to the fact that his better judgment no longer held sway over his mouth.

"Anywhere is fine," he found himself saying.

She seemed to lighten a little at the response and turned their route westward. "It's this way."

He followed silently, regaining enough control over his whirling thoughts to notice her sudden reserve. She was quiet on the trek there, her stride unhurried as they crossed from the village into the desert.

It was a bit of a walk, located a fair distance from where they'd marked down the measurements for the trading posts. Western Suna looked more or less the same as the east, indistinguishable from the rest of the landscape until an object slowly grew visible in the distance.

As they neared it, he recognized it as the lookout. It was an old, wooden tower, standing alone in a sea of sand. The structure was missing planks here and there and graffiti was scribbled on the posts, but the stairs looked intact. She led him up the steps and to the balcony, emerging onto a platform. Sand coated the floorboards, crunching under their feet as she moved towards the railing.

"Not much of a view," she mentioned, looking out at the expanse of sand and night sky. "But it's nice to get away for a while."

He looked over the railing and at the horizon, seeing why she would think so. If one looked far enough, the horizon blurred enough to make it seem like the sand was tapering off into the sea. A mirage, of course, but it provided an escape from the endless ocean of sand around them.

He lowered his eyes, then, noticing the multiple tea rings left on the post beside him.

"You come here often," he commented.

She followed his gaze, laughing in a self-deprecating way. "More often than I should. It's hard to get some quiet anywhere else."

She paused, tapping her fingers on the railing before lowering herself to the platform and swinging her legs over the edge. "You're the first person I've brought up here."

The comment left him wordless for several seconds. She did not seem to notice the effect it had on him and looked out at the dunes with a distracted expression. Slowly, he took his hands out of his pockets and came up beside her. She lifted her head, sparing him a smile when he lowered himself next to her and leaned his arms on the railing.

She remained quiet for a while, he noticed, which was unusual for her. As the minutes passed, it occurred to him that she felt embarrassed for some reason or another. It was another few minutes before understanding finally dawned on him and he spoke quietly without looking away from the horizon.

"Thank you."

She blinked and glanced at him in surprise. "For what?"

"Bringing me here."

Like he'd anticipated, a faintly embarrassed look crossed her features. She turned back towards the view, shrugging her shoulders lightly. "It's no big deal."

It was to him, he thought, feeling that surge of contentment that came with knowing she'd chosen to spend the evening with him instead of her colleagues. It was easy to misinterpret her intentions, but he now understood her reasoning because he'd often felt the same way in the past.

Her loyalty was unquestionable and she was devoted to her village, but he'd known her long enough now to see what she'd been hiding from others since the first day he'd arrived here.

She was tired. Weariness clouded her features like dust and shone through the slack in her frame. Room for reprieve was scarce in the wake of the war and finding someone like-minded to talk to and unwind with was difficult. Especially for someone like her.

He thought of Sasuke, knowing that as the eldest sibling, she would not confide her weariness to her brothers. And to be constantly surrounded by people who followed and looked up to her, it was no surprise she'd looked for company who could allow her to be herself.

He knew this, because he'd done the same with Shisui long ago.

"Your shinobi respect and admire you," he said, breaking the silence. "That means you've worked hard for them and your village."

There was a pause as he looked down at the sand and felt her eyes come to rest on his face.

"Respite isn't something you should feel guilty for," he said finally. "You've earned it."

When she didn't reply, he looked at her and found her staring at him, visibly startled. The look gradually faded when he said no more, and slowly she turned her head back towards the horizon.

"I was right," she said suddenly. "You're definitely not cut out for this line of work." A soft laugh spilled from her lips. "Psychotherapy would've suited you much better."

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly as she smiled openly this time. Gradually, she relaxed her frame over the railing.

"I might have considered it," he said a moment later. "Being a shinobi was not my first choice."

Temari glanced at him, a little surprised. When he said nothing else, her curiosity heightened. "What did you want to be?"

He was quiet for a few seconds. Then he raised his head and answered with a completely straight face. "A pastry chef."

There was a stunned silence. Temari managed to close her gaping mouth after a few seconds and tried to form a somewhat neutral expression.

"I see," she said at last, voice noticeably strained. "That's...different."

A long stretch of silence passed between them.

"That was a joke," he said quietly.

Temari gave him a blank stare. He watched her hand rise slowly from her side to cover her mouth. She was struggling to rein in her laughter. When it became clear she was going to fail, his lips quirked in amusement. Then she totally lost it, doubling over in hysterics.

It was a couple minutes before she was able to get a hold of herself. Her laughter eventually subsided into gasps for breath and she placed a hand over her heart.

"Thanks for that," she breathed, momentarily closing her eyes. She muffled another laugh. "God, you're weird."

He gave no indication of the way his heart was soaring and replied mildly. "You're welcome."

They settled into an amiable silence, the air noticeably lighter this time around. He was glad of it, content to sit with her as the smells of festival food and faint music carried over the wind.

"I wonder what Gaara and Kankuro are doing," she mused eventually, resting her chin in the crook of her elbow. "They always come back with the craziest stories. Well, Kankuro does, at least."

"He'll have his hands full with Sasuke," Itachi said, inwardly amused at the thought of his brother. "They invited him along."

She seemed surprised. "He actually went? With Kankuro?"

"It took some convincing, but he wanted to go."

She sighed. "Those two get along in the weirdest way. Hopefully Gaara keeps them from damaging anymore public property."

There was a brief pause as she idly scratched the dango skewer into the post. "How's he doing, by the way? Your brother?"

If Itachi was surprised by the sudden inquiry, he didn't show it. He was quiet for a while before answering. "He's happy here."

She hummed in agreement. "I heard he was doing pretty well."

Itachi nodded slowly. "I haven't seen him this way since..."

He didn't need to finish the sentence. Temari lowered her head in understanding and continued scratching lines into the post.

"Kankuro gets it," she said after a while. "After Gaara...it's why he treats your brother the way he does. It's empathy, more than anything else."

He said nothing, feeling like he should have thanked her and her brothers for their acceptance where so many others had turned against them. But her words brought to mind the talk he'd had with Sasuke a few weeks ago, when his brother had dropped a bombshell and revealed he did not want to go home.

His features clouded at the memory. The lightness in his chest dwindled beneath the sudden weight of doubt bearing down on him. He did not know what to say to Sasuke. He wasn't sure he even agreed with what he was supposed to say. It brought to mind when he'd floundered over his options, when he'd derided himself for being weak and found himself struck with the urge to confide in her.

He finally spoke, voice toneless. "Sasuke does not want to go back."

She raised her head and looked at him.

He said nothing else, gazing expressionlessly down into the abyss of sand. Slowly, she lowered her head to follow suit and furrowed her brow in thought.

"I guess that's understandable," she said. "He's had a hard time. But he's seeing things through rose-coloured glasses. Any place would seem better than home after the way you guys were treated."

He considered her words, pensive but a little assured that she held to the same reasoning he did.

"But from what I can see," she continued, "he really looks up to you. If you be more assertive it'll come down to what you want."

That part was no mystery. He thought back to when she'd first asked him the question, when he'd answered with the only thing that manged to get him out of bed every morning because he had no desires for himself.

_I want Sasuke to be happy._

And Sasuke, in turn, wanted the same thing for him, a goal that was clearly achievable here in Suna. They both wanted the same thing and the answer was as simple as staying. But he could not leave Konoha.

She must have seen the soberness in his features because her voice was noticeably quieter when she spoke.

"It'll be a hard decision. You'll come to the right choice in the end, but think about it first. A lot. For both your sakes." She paused, looking noticeably hesitant. "I'll always have regrets about Gaara. How I could've done more..."

He blinked at that, turning to look at her.

She bit her lower lip, seeming to struggle with herself before continuing. "Things are better now, obviously. Better than they've ever been. But I'll never forget it...all those things I could have done differently. It's all I see sometimes when I look at him."

Itachi was silent. A part of him was surprised she trusted him enough to confide such a thing, but it was the profound rush of empathy that ended up taking precedence. He understood her so well it hurt.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she said after a while. "Usually I'm the one reminding others to keep personal feelings out of shinobi duty."

"Technically," he murmured, "you're not on duty. And I'm no longer a shinobi."

She laughed under her breath. "Everybody cuts loose during the festival. I guess I'm no exception."

A brief stillness settled on their surroundings as they fell quiet again. He was brought out of his reverie when she nudged him with her elbow in a reassuring way.

"Don't worry about it," she said eventually. "He'll come around. Everybody needs a change of scenery sometimes."

In response, he looked down at the platform and brushed away the sand that was accumulating in the folds of his coat. "I can see why."

She managed a small grin. "You get used to it. Plus it helps the travel experience. Going to Konoha was like going to a different planet."

She was trying to change the topic and take his mind off his brother. He found himself appreciating the effort, knowing that although her intent was clear and the distraction was temporary, he was content to let her do it.

Relaxing, he looked out at the blue line blurring the horizon. "Going to Wave must have been a shock."

"I should be so lucky," she mused. "I've never seen the ocean."

He was surprised at that. "Your missions have never taken you to the coast?"

"The opportunity never came up. Plus there was a security limit on how far we could travel from home, being the Kazekage's kids and all." She shrugged a little, sounding amused. "We used to have these picture books when I was little. Of kids going out in the water looking for seashells. It made me jealous."

There was a pause as her eyes swept wistfully over the dunes. "Have you seen it?"

"Yes."

"What's it like?"

Big, he thought. And blue. That was as far as his descriptive skills went. He'd never been very poetic. But the image was crystal clear in his mind, memorized down to the smallest detail. He watched the wind scatter sand over his sleeve, contemplative. Then he spoke without looking up.

"Do you want to see it?"

She paused at that, lifting her head to give him a questioning look. He said nothing and awaited her reply.

"How?" she said.

He finally looked away from the dunes and she was taken aback by the sight of his Sharingan.

"Genjutsu?" she inquired. There was a hint of wariness in her voice, but mostly she just sounded curious.

He was careful to keep his tone neutral. "With your permission."

She regarded him silently, face unreadable. Then a look of intrigue crept across her features and she drew her arms from over the railing. "All right."

He followed suit and stood up, realising she meant for him to take the lead when she stood aside and waited. Feeling an odd sense of quiet anticipation, he led her away from the lookout, venturing out into the dunes until they were standing on relatively flat land.

She seemed amused and somewhat sceptical as her eyes swept the landscape, looking back at him expectantly when he turned around.

"Should I close my eyes?" she said half-jokingly.

He smiled a little. "If you want."

She humoured him and did so.

He watched her for a little while to see if she kept them closed. Then he reached down and swept up a fistful of sand. "Hold out your hand."

She raised her arm, palm facing outward. He reached forward and slowly eased his grip on the grains. They streamed onto her hand and her expression contorted in shock, eyes flying open at the feel of water spilling through her fingers.

She looked up at him in astonishment. Then she realised the moon had vanished in place of midday and she was standing knee-deep in the sea. The waves broke with a splash as she whipped around. Her surroundings felt completely real—the sun bearing down on her crown, the sensation of sand squelching underfoot, even the hint of salt in the air.

She stared out at the sea, seemingly spellbound for what felt like minutes. Then her fingers loosened by her sides and she spoke, sounding awed.

"This...is the trippiest thing I've ever seen."

He could have said something in return, but the sound of wonderment in her voice was enough to keep him silent. He was content to watch from the sidelines, feeling that he should have been glad in his ability to let her have this experience. But as the seconds passed and he watched her move farther out among the waves, a dull ache slowly took root in his chest.

It was moments like this that hope and improbable possibilities filled his head and it was moments like those he hated most. His hopes would amount to nothing, he reminded himself, and it was for that reason the sight of her gradually grew less pleasant and more painful.

Because even if it was something like this, even if it was something fleeting and illusory, he knew he had it in him to make her happy.

Having that knowledge shouldn't have made him feel this way; pained in a way that didn't feel like pain, afflicted till he felt sick, weak and helpless. Like he was in the worst fever dream. Enduring torment like this might have engendered resentment in any other circumstance. But none of this was her fault. She'd done nothing to lead him on or behave in a way to manipulate his emotions. She treated him like a friend, something he should have been grateful for. Something that should have been enough because forgoing what he wanted was common practice.

He was no stranger to sacrifice. It had been his dogma from the day he'd first donned the symbol of his village upon his brow. Sacrifice was a shinobi's life.

His hands curled in his pockets, enclosing his forehead protector.

But he was no longer a shinobi.

He was just a shell, a corporeal ghost existing on the wrong plane. Life's pleasures had never been his to have and he'd relegated himself to that role.

Besides the desire to maintain peace in Konoha and keep Sasuke happy, there was nothing he'd really wanted out of life. He'd lost himself somewhere after the Third Shinobi War. He was broken. Damaged goods. It was for that reason his imaginings of a prosperous, peaceful Konoha had never included himself. He'd assigned himself his destiny as a means to an end.

But fate had never been in his hands to begin with and nothing had gone the way he'd intended. He was left wandering aimlessly, now privy to the realm and depth of feeling to which others gave themselves freely. And against his better judgement, he was reaching for it; tentatively skimming the edges of it.

It was a frightening, futile prospect. There was no need to be greedy. Sustaining himself on the dregs of happiness had always been enough.

But now, he realised, looking out at her in the surf, things were changing and he no longer had the self-delusion to deny he wanted more.

Feeling his chakra reserves dwindling, he let himself fade from the illusion, content to watch her explore the sea and sand.

She noticed his absence after a few seconds and glanced around in surprise. "Hey, you didn't just leave me here, did you?"

He smiled a little despite himself. "I'm still here."

The sound of his voice was all-pervading, reverberating from all around her. She blinked, turning in search of the source.

He knew she couldn't pinpoint the place but stepped closer anyway. She turned again and he was taken aback when she stopped in front of him. Then he realised she was looking through him, at the sun cresting the waves in the distance.

The sight had a visible effect on her. Slowly, her shoulders relaxed, fingers unfurling. Her features softened at the sight.

It was a disarming expression. For an instant, he let himself get lost in his own illusion; let himself believe it was him she was looking at like that.

It was a dangerous thing to do. But the illusion was his domain and she could not see him unless he wanted her to. With that thought, he stepped closer. She remained where she was, oblivious to him standing right in front of her.

It vaguely occurred to him that his entire life had been a reflection of this moment. A melange of illusions. A life acted out of the shadows. Self-sacrifice for the comfort and livelihood of others. Pushing others away. Watching from afar. Giving his everything for nothing.

Peace in Konoha. But not for him.

The restoration of the Uchiha clan. But not for him.

Sasuke's health and happiness. But not for him.

Gaining absolutely nothing—except for this.

His arm rose from his side, reaching out. Perhaps, just this once, he could let himself have this.

The air was still as the ends of her hair brushed over his fingers. Slowly, he raised his hand higher, bringing it above her cheek. There was a moment of hesitation. Then he reached forward, the touch translating into a gust of the sea breeze. A look of contentment relaxed her features. She closed her eyes.

In the remoteness of the desert, it was far too easy to misinterpret the cause for the expression. His control was steady but egg-shell thin, and he was all too aware of the cracks splintering his resolve.

As he made to draw back, she suddenly reached up to brush her hair out of her face. Her hand grazed his and she opened her eyes, startled. The sudden contact was enough to shake his tenuous hold on the genjutsu. It abruptly fell apart, thrusting her back into the dark desert.

She buckled, immediately losing her bearings. He reached out to steady her, the concern dying short of his lips when she collided into his chest.

It occurred to him then that he needed an excuse to explain why he'd been standing so close to her, but his mind had suddenly gone blank.

She had seized his arms to keep from falling and was making a valiant effort at finding her balance and pushing him away. He gripped her shoulders and didn't let her, feeling her fingers slacken each time she thought she could stand on her own and tightening again when she realized she couldn't. Eventually she just stopped trying and held onto him.

The sound of shifting sand and her quiet gasps subsided. His eyes lowered to the top of her head, feeling her hair brush the side of his face. The air around him grew totally still. He stood motionless, attuned to nothing but her warmth and her shuddering breaths.

He'd never been this close to her before.

He'd never been this close to anyone before.

Her ear was near enough his chest to make him think she could hear every violent beat emanating from within. If not that, then feel it beneath her fingers, because an internal ferment like that could not be hidden in a closeness like this; closeness that warmed the air several degrees and made him feel like his arms were encircling an open flame.

A strange, emptying sensation came over him. He dimly realised it was the feel of his restraint leaving him. The spill was neither sudden nor violent. It felt like a deep bleed; slow, heavy, fervent. He gave himself up to it, helpless and unwilling to let this moment go because it was the first time in his life something had been made his.

She remained unaware, closing her eyes tightly to stop the spinning. When he stayed silent, she felt the need to say something to spare him the awkwardness.

"Sorry," she muttered, keeping her head lowered out of embarrassment. "Just give me a minute."

He said nothing.

It took her about thirty seconds to gather her bearings. Slowly she eased her grip on his arms.

"I'm okay," she said, more to herself than him. When he didn't say anything, she lifted her head and paused. "Are you?"

He wondered what his expression looked like in that moment. The dams had burst and he was hemorrhaging, fulminating, overflowing—brimming with every emotion he'd tried keeping under control. His body felt like a frayed wire, sparking hot and cold and slowly suffocating because the need for air was rising and he was barely breathing.

Concern was seeping into her features and a part of him realised he was on the verge of destroying everything they had, of irrevocably ruining the one thing that gave him happiness. Ruining, because asking for something more than this was just pure selfishness. Ruining, because she did not feel the same way.

At that thought, inhibition crept back in like a smothering hand. She didn't know. She didn't have to know. He couldn't let her know.

Mustering constraint in that moment was like suffocating a caged animal. He wound his feelings tight in his fist and pulled them back, letting the blinds fall back into place. His expression grew closed, hands drifting away from her shoulders. He took a step back.

At her questioning glance, a reassuring look swept across his features, so convincing that he, too, was nearly swayed into believing that he hadn't just ripped out and butchered a part of himself.

"I'm fine," he said, voice steady. "I'm sorry for the botched release."

A relieved look flickered in her eyes. She blinked and looked around, surveying the desert again before reaching down and sweeping up a fistful of sand. She watched the grains stream out of her hand with an expression of wonder.

"You're really something. Any other time, and I wouldn't have known that was an illusion." She looked up at him with sincere gratitude. "Thanks for showing me that. Really."

He didn't know what to say. She saved him the need when she raised an eyebrow and pointed at him. "And don't say it was nothing. You looked pretty out of it there for a second."

The smile he managed to give back was strained. "I've been feeling under the weather."

At that, she dropped the remainder of the sand and gave him a scrutinizing look. "I had a feeling. Maybe we should head back."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

She turned and started back towards the lookout, saying something over her shoulder as he settled in beside her. The words went right through him, barely registering. The most he could do was keep up and respond when necessary, his body feeling cold and strangely detached from himself.

She didn't seem to notice, keeping her gait leisurely because his facade was so convincing. So much so, that when she smiled at him, he wished he didn't have to pretend because the sight no longer reminded him of sun on a patch of ice. She smiled warmly and openly, and when she nudged him affectionately with her elbow it was the way he'd seen her do with her closest friends.

He smiled back and gave no indication of the way something was wrenching painfully in his chest and he could barely breathe. Cold sweat was seeping into the lines of his palm and he compulsively gripped the medication in his pocket.

He'd always felt their time together passed far too quickly, but the walk back to his apartment felt like an eternity. She bid him goodnight, telling him to do something along the lines of resting and eating better before she turned and left with a wave.

He watched her reach the end of the street before he pulled the door open to the building and stumbled inside. The pressure in his chest burst forth with a stream of painful, wracking coughs. The force left him reeling against the wall holding his chest.

When the attack subsided long enough for him to take a breath, he uncapped the bottle of medication and forced two of the capsules down his throat.

The night was still young. He was fortunate no passerby happened upon him in the ten minutes he spent recovering in the lobby. He waited for his heart to slow, listening to the festival music floating through the cracks in the windows before slowly straightening. Placing the bottle back in his pocket, he slowly started up the stairs to the apartment.

Sasuke wasn't there when he entered. Relieved, he bypassed the living room and headed straight for his bed, feeling the room tilt beneath his feet. He managed to shrug his jacket off onto the sheets before dropping down next to it.

The pain in his chest flared briefly before receding into a pulsing throb. After a few minutes, it ceased completely. He sat there for several more minutes, unmoving. Then he raised his bottle of medication into the light.

He watched the pills tilt and slide along each other in the bottle. They would be no help to him in the long-term because what was happening to him had nothing to do with illness. He knew this pain far better than he knew anything else.

It had manifested in twinges at first, long ago. Gradually, it had worsened with every subsequent emotion and impulse he started burying up until the extermination of his clan. Then, once he'd done the unimaginable, it exploded out of him like a torrent, making the bound from emotional to physical as anguish bled from him like water from a burst pipe.

Except this time it wasn't anguish. This time it was some vicious amalgamation of longing, hope, and despair.

Madness, he thought. Madness was the only word that did it justice.

Slowly, he set the bottle aside on his nightstand, letting his gaze linger on it until the weariness began to feel unbearable. He lowered his head and shifted, pulling his weight back to lie down when his hand brushed the material of his jacket.

A flash of yellow stopped him from pushing the garment onto the floor. He removed the poppy from his lapel, looking at it in the faint light streaming through the window.

Half the petals were crushed.

* * *

><p>It was a little after one AM when Temari made it back to the house. She pulled the chain on the living room lamp when she entered, pausing at the sight of the clock.<p>

She hadn't noticed the late hour at all. Which was strange, she mused, because she made it a habit to go to bed a lot earlier than that. Dropping the jacket onto the sofa, she stretched her arms over her head and realised she didn't feel tired, either. Refreshed, was more like it.

"Great," she said out loud, letting her arms flop down to her sides again. "I knew I shouldn't have had that dango."

She stood there a little longer before deciding tea would probably help. Turning, she ventured into the kitchen, getting a pot out of the cabinet. The gentle slosh of water broke the silence as she filled the kettle, reminding her of the ocean waves she'd been standing in only a while ago. Unwittingly, a faint smile spread over her face.

He really was something else, she thought, growing distant in recall of the sunlight refracting over the water and the glistening of silver fish. The feeling was nearly vivid enough to make her reach down and check if her pants were still dry.

The faint smile turned into a self-deprecating one, and as she poured the boiling water into the mug and steeped the tea, she felt it growing till it took over the entirety of her face. She was biting her lip by the time she returned to the living room, struggling to control her grin at the thought of him trying to keep his composure after the pepper incident.

It had been an impulsive decision on her part to ask him to hang out. As she sat down and sipped at her tea, she realised she was glad to have done it. He made for good company. It was easy—almost effortless—to go between joking and discussing more serious topics with him. She dwelled on when they'd talked about their brothers, surprised at herself for how much she'd said about Gaara.

But then she'd never known anyone who'd been even remotely close to understanding her situation. He was the same as her in that respect. She supposed that was why she'd felt she could trust him. And doing so had felt...nice. Relieving.

It had to do with his personality, she decided. He was unnervingly intuitive and very easy to talk to despite his reserve. The fact that he was unintentionally hilarious didn't hurt. And _weird—_oh, lord, was he weird.

She was biting her lip to keep from grinning again when she heard a key slide into a lock at the front of the house. A moment later, Kankuro strolled into the living room, stopping short at the sight of her.

"Oh, you're still up?" he said in surprise. "Can't sleep?"

She forced her face into an impassive expression and watched him as she started towards the kitchen to get a drink. "I just got home, actually."

Kankuro came to a halt and doubled back into the room. "What? From the festival?"

"Yeah."

He looked mildly contrite at that and scratched his head. "You know I'd take you with us but it'd be weird with just the guys—"

"I know," Temari interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Don't worry. I didn't go alone."

He blinked at that. "Then who'd you go with?"

When she merely smiled from behind the rim of the cup, his eyes widened.

"Wait—with Sasuke's brother?"

"Yeah."

He stared at her in surprise, his hand frozen at the back of his head. Then his eyes flicked over her uncertainly. "Like...on a date?"

She rolled her eyes again and gestured to her clothes. "Does it look that way to you?"

When he moved closer and realised she was wearing her uniform, the uncertainty ebbed a little from his features. Then his eyes flicked towards the blue ribbon around her wrist and his eyes narrowed in bewilderment.

"'the hell is that?"

"Nothing," she said smoothly, with no intention of telling him more. "How was your night?"

That seemed to distract him and a devious grin spread over his face. He sat down across from her, totally forgetting about his drink.

"It was nuts. A bunch of fights broke out so Gaara's still back at the pub doing crowd control. Not our fault though," he said quickly, seeing the disapproving frown on her face. "Everyone got smashed, including security. He said he'll be home in a bit."

She seemed mollified with that and leaned back into the cushions. "I heard you took your boyfriend. How was that?"

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," he said, making a face. "But last I saw him, he was stumbling home."

"I didn't peg Sasuke as a drinker."

At that, Kankuro smiled slyly. "He didn't touch the stuff. Me and the guys got him to do the ghost pepper challenge just before he left."

Temari had to fight to restrain the laugh threatening to spill from her lips. Clearing her throat, she feigned casual interest. "He actually went through with it?"

"Nah. He refused at first—acted like it was stupid. So I called him a giant pussy."

"Of course," she said dryly.

"We bugged him about it till he gave in," he said, laughing now. "You should've seen his face."

"Did he cry?"

"Like a baby. It took two pitchers of water for him to get his voice back. Then he got a stomach ache and had to go home."

Temari snorted into her drink.

Kankuro grinned lazily and stretched out on the sofa. "So what'd you guys do?"

She paused, staring into her cup. Then she shrugged. "Nothing."

Her feigned nonchalance was betrayed by the crinkles forming in the corners of her eyes. Her brother stared at her a little longer, slowly raising an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, nothing?"

"I _mean_ nothing. He doesn't drink. And neither do I. So we just hung out."

"That sounds lame."

"Well, what did you expect?"

When Kankuro didn't reply, Temari looked up and found him staring at the ribbon again with a morbid sort of fascination. Before she could open her mouth, he raised an arm and pointed accusingly.

"You're friggin' lying."

Exasperated, she put the cup down. "Kankuro, it was _not_ a date!"

When he didn't look convinced, she heaved a sigh and reached down to untie the ribbon. Then she raised it up and scrunched it into a ball in front of him before carelessly throwing it aside.

"Honestly," she said, raising an eyebrow when the doubt trickled out of his features, "if anyone should be suspicious, it should be me. The way you canoodle around with Sasuke..." she grinned, voice teasing, "it's adorable. Really."

Kankuro stared at her with a mix of horror and disgust. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Can you blame me? The chemistry is palpable."

Her brother abruptly stood up. "That's it. Screw this. I'm going to bed."

"There's no need to be shy—" Temari broke off with a laugh, watching as he clapped his hands over his ears and began a loud refrain of 'do re mi' as he started up the stairs. He didn't stop until he was out of earshot and she distantly heard a door slam somewhere overhead.

Snickering to herself, she rose to her feet and stretched, feeling a yawn slip past her lips. The house was silent again, suddenly making her aware of the heaviness weighing her limbs. Gathering her tea cup, she reached out to pull the chain on the lamp.

The room was cast into the dark, illumed faintly by the pale blue light filtering through the windows. She started forward, considering sleeping in tomorrow when she caught sight of something on the floor.

She moved closer, then stopped when she realised it was the ribbon. It gleamed faintly in the light, looking a little worse for wear after she'd crumpled it. Reaching down, she picked it up and took a moment to feel it between her fingers.

The material was plain, blue satin. She could see a small stain where the nectar of the crushed poppies had bled into it. She started towards the kitchen, squeezing it in her hand with the intent to throw it out.

It felt smooth and silken between her fingers as she absentmindedly toyed with it, dangling by her side as she rinsed out the cup. She was unaccustomed to the feel of something so soft in her hands and continued fiddling with it as she started up the stairs.

It somehow remained in her grip, unfelt, until she'd changed out of her clothes and was reclining in bed. When she reached out to turn off the lamp, it fell, wrinkled and bent, onto her bedspread. She stared at it blankly.

The sight of it reminded her that she was supposed to throw it away and she reached out to pick it up again. Once it was in her hands, she thoughtlessly smoothed it out, running her fingers again over the satin.

It reminded her of something else. It wasn't until she looked down at it that the gleam brought the memory of the glittering waves and the feel of water streaming through her fingers.

A distant look came over her features. She kept her grip on it, reliving the memory until she was lying down in the dark. The reverie gradually subsided with the fog of sleep creeping in and her eyes came back into focus, staring up at the ceiling.

She held onto it a little longer. Then, carefully, she unwound it from between her fingers and placed it on her bedside table.

It lay in a loose coil, shining faintly between her clock and books.

She pulled back, lowering her head against her pillow, and looked at it until she closed her eyes and the music spilling through the window softened into the sounds of the sea.


	4. Chapter 4

The Hazards of Amity

By: firefly

Note: Whoa, fail on my part for not updating this in so long. No real excuse, besides the fact that life is busy and time is scarce. And—can you guess what I'm going to say next? There is another chapter after this, because the final one was bordering on 20K words when I was intending to post it as a whole.

As for the chapter itself, I'm pretty surprised at how it turned out. I also seriously love my KankSasu bromance. Anyway, thank you very much to those who reviewed and waited patiently! Hope you enjoy this chapter, and reviews are always love!

The Hazards of Amity ch.4

His sleep was a tenuous thing.

Even when he'd been young, he'd always taken it in sips, cautiously indulging when it obliged him those rare hours of oblivion.

He appreciated those moments because they were so fleeting. After he'd left home, deep sleep was a blessing unattainable without the aid of medication or severe blood loss. It was true for him even now, and it was for that reason he felt something was seriously wrong when he woke some time near noon.

The sound of running water brought him out of his stupor. He cracked his eyes open, slowly becoming cognizant of the sunlight warming his face.

He turned his head from the glare and blinked up at the ceiling. Then he lifted his head slightly and looked across the room. Sasuke's bed was empty. Muddled, he lowered his eyes and found himself lying nearly sideways on his bed, blankets piled in a heap on the opposite end.

It was late. The thought was followed instantly by the realisation that he was supposed to be presenting with Temari to the council. He glanced at the clock. There were still several hours left before it started.

He sat up, bracing a hand against the wall when a wave of vertigo struck him. The room tilted akimbo, lingering at a forty-five degree angle before slowly straightening. He pressed his hand to his face and closed his eyes briefly.

His fingers felt icy against his skin.

He eased his weight out of bed and stood, pausing a moment. The faint clinking of dishware and the scrape of a chair drifted to him from the kitchen. He took a moment to breathe and clear his head. Then he slowly ambled out into the hall.

Sasuke was sitting at the table when he entered the kitchen. There was a glass of water and a bottle of antacid next to him.

His little brother spared him a glance when he noticed him in the doorway.

"Heartburn," he muttered in explanation.

Itachi tried to ignore the way his legs weren't quite supporting his weight and made his way towards the sink. "Long night?"

Sasuke pressed his fist to his mouth and grimaced before answering. He did not seem to notice the way Itachi's voice was quaking slightly.

"Ate something I shouldn't have," he said under his breath, a glower passing over his face. "Last time I listen to that moron..."

Itachi reached for a glass and turned on the tap, letting it run cold. He swallowed the sick feeling building in his throat and tried to speak naturally. "You had a good time, then."

He felt Sasuke's incredulous stare on the back of his head. "What makes you say that?"

"If you hadn't enjoyed yourself, you would have come home a lot earlier than you did."

Sasuke couldn't think of a response to that. But then he spoke, sounding miffed. "You were awake when I came back?"

"No." The water was overflowing the glass now. He would have elaborated, but the sick feeling was pushing at the base of his throat now.

Sasuke's tone grew curious. "Then how do you know?"

Itachi was silent for a moment. Then with slow, deliberate movements, he reached out and turned off the tap. Streams of water spilled down the sides of the glass and over his fingers. He stared at it and tried to speak.

"I..."

He stopped, feeling a pressure build in his chest and a hot, pooling sensation fill the back of his throat.

Sasuke stared at him, slowly growing concerned. His eyes trailed his brother's frame, narrowing in apprehension when he noticed his shoulders growing rigid. "Are you all right?"

Itachi let go of the glass, taking a shallow breath before finally turning around. "I'm fine—"

The words had no sooner left his mouth when he felt a sensation like getting kicked in the chest. He doubled over, slapping his hand to his mouth in anticipation of a coughing fit. Instead, a projectile stream of blood gushed out of his mouth, violently enough to spurt through his fingers and all over the tiles.

It took him a few seconds to clear his throat of the fluid before he straightened and looked at his hand. Blood webbed his fingers in thick, dripping strands. When he raised his head, he found Sasuke staring at him, aghast. The boy's face had gone totally white.

Very quickly, his vision began deteriorating into a haze. Recognizing the familiar signs, he summoned what remained of his strength and stepped away from the counter.

"Sasuke," he said, calm despite the blood splattering his face, "if the doctor asks, my medication is in my back pocket."

Sasuke mouthed wordlessly. Taking that as a sign of assurance, Itachi finally gave in and collapsed to the floor.

* * *

><p>The meeting room was silent save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock. Nearly a minute passed this way before one of the council members cleared his throat and took a pointed glance at his watch.<p>

The ticking was soon joined by the impatient tapping of a shoe against the tile.

Gaara sat at the head of the table, hands folded under his chin. He stared down at the final report on the trade agreement before looking up at the clock. Then his eyes slid questioningly over to where his sister was standing at the front of the room.

She returned his gaze with a visibly apologetic look before glancing at the clock and frowning. Nearby, Kankuro spared a glance at the empty seat next to him. Slowly, he reached for the copy of the report he'd laid out for Sasuke and set it back with his.

Another minute passed.

Then Temari broke the silence with the scuff of her shoes as she stepped towards the white board at the front of the room.

"I apologise for the delay," she finally said, tone decisive. "We'll continue with the presentation as scheduled."

With that, she aimed a meaningful look at Kankuro and held out the notes meant for her partner. Her brother quickly stood and joined her by her side, taking the papers.

No further words were exchanged because Temari was a consummate professional and would no doubt save her anger for outside the office. Kankuro actually felt somewhat sorry for Sasuke's brother because the poor fool apparently had no idea the sort of trouble he'd just gotten himself into. Bailing on Temari during the final presentation of a project was justifiable suicide.

But as they got into place and he saw her aim one final look at the clock, he curiously found that it wasn't really anger but something that looked more like worry creeping over his sister's face.

* * *

><p>It was an hour later when Gaara finally dismissed the meeting.<p>

The room broke up with the council members rising to congratulate each other. A seal of approval was stamped on the trade agreement and bore all twelve required signatures. Temari smiled and nodded as they praised her on a job well done before leaving the room.

"Congratulations, Temari," Gaara said, offering her a small smile when the room was empty and only he and his siblings remained. "You did well."

She smiled back, looking relieved that it was over. "Thanks, Gaara."

"What about me?" Kankuro interjected, sounding offended. "I busted my back for three months building the damn things."

Gaara stared up at him for a moment before amending. "You also did well, Kankuro. Congratulations."

Kankuro looked back at him with petulance. "But you just—ah, fine, forget it. Thanks, Gaara. That means a lot."

Gaara looked down at his papers and sorted them into a neat pile. He spoke without looking up. "Uchiha Sasuke and Itachi were supposed to be in attendance, if I`m not mistaken."

There was a brief silence. Kankuro's expression sobered a bit and he looked towards his sister for a hint into what might have happened. It was no use. She looked as bewildered as he did.

"You're not mistaken," she said eventually, her face clouding. "Something must have happened."

"You don't know that," Kankuro said, somewhat taken aback at her reaction. "They could have just ditched."

She frowned. "Itachi wouldn't do that."

Before either Kankuro or Gaara could reply, a knock interrupted the silence. Gaara did not seem to be expecting anyone and blinked before permitting entry.

A kunoichi entered, quickly crossing the room to stand at attention before the Kazekage. Her face was damp with perspiration, as if she'd run on the way.

"Report," Gaara said.

She obeyed. "Two security clearance scrolls were recently activated and the names came up flagged in the system. Head of security thought Kazekage-sama should be informed that they belong to Uchiha Itachi and Uchiha Sasuke of Konoha."

Temari's eyes widened.

"What?" Kankuro said in disbelief.

"They are delegates here on a mission," Gaara said, regarding the messenger carefully. "For what reason were their security seals activated?"

"I apologise, Kazekage-sama," the messenger said, bowing her head, "there was no actual security compromise on their part, but seal activation is standard procedure for foreign shinobi admitted to the hospital."

There was a moment of silence. Kankuro looked away from the messenger and at Gaara, noticing that Temari had done the same. Her face had grown pinched.

"Kazekage-sama," Temari said after a moment, keeping her voice steady. "Permission to investigate?"

Gaara looked between the tight-lipped expressions of both his siblings before turning back to the messenger.

"Clear the alert," he said, nodding once to his siblings. "You are dismissed."

The three issued quick bows before leaving the room, Kankuro hanging back long enough to mutter "we'll keep you updated" before hurrying after Temari. His sister's gait was rushed and he had to jog to keep up when they emerged from the building and onto the street.

"Hey, do you know what's going on?" he asked in concern.

"I'm not sure," she answered, a peculiar note entering her voice. "But he's been sick lately. Even yesterday..."

Kankuro refrained from asking more, realising she was talking about Itachi. He spotted the hospital on the horizon and quickened his pace, thoughts wandering not only to his sister's quiet partner, but the younger brother who'd been so reluctant to leave him home alone last night.

"Just keep it together, Sasuke," he muttered under his breath.

* * *

><p>It took four and a half hours and a battery of non-stop tests before Sasuke was allowed to see Itachi again. He'd been sitting in the corner of the waiting room with his face buried in his hands when one of the nurses approached him.<p>

He leapt to his feet, barely letting her finish saying the room number before he was racing down the hallway.

The door was slightly ajar when he got there. He saw why when he burst into the room and nearly collided with the doctor who'd just entered before him.

"I'm all ri—" Itachi managed to get out before Sasuke practically flew across the room and seized him by the shoulders.

"What the hell? What the hell _happened_? You were perfectly fine and then you—you—" Sasuke's face went paper white as he looked down and noticed the IV in his brother's hand. Then he realised how tightly he was squeezing Itachi's shoulders and shakily let go. His hands remained hovering above them, though, as if he was prepared to lunge forward and force Itachi's soul back into his body if he had to.

"I'm all right," Itachi repeated, his voice a little hoarse. He smiled, though it came out looking like a wince. "The doctor was just about to tell me the results."

Sasuke finally lowered his arms and took a step back. He stared at his brother for a long moment, as though to reassure himself that he was alive and conscious and really there. Then he suddenly came alive and whirled towards the doctor.

"What happened to him?" he demanded. "Is it serious?"

The doctor didn't even bat an eye before he raised his clipboard and started where he left off.

"As I was saying, I went through your medical history. We ran every test under the sun and checked for adverse side effects from your medication..." at this he paused, looking at the bottle in his hand admiringly. "Give my regards to your Hokage, by the way."

Itachi watched expressionlessly as the man paused, flipping a page on his clipboard before lowering it with two words.

"It's stress."

"Stress?" Sasuke repeated.

"Yes," the doctor affirmed, shifting his attention to the emotionless man on the bed. "Enough to kill a horse, apparently, because it reduced the efficacy of your medication to nearly zero."

Itachi said nothing. The doctor's gaze flitted between the shocked—if not angry—look on Sasuke's face and his patient's nonchalance. He crossed his arms and spoke in a somewhat softer tone.

"Look, I know there's no shortage of tension in shinobi work. It's not something you can usually confide due to the nature of the job. But problems of this kind usually surface with inflammation caused by an acute onset of severe stress. Can you think of anything in particular that's been troubling you lately?"

Itachi closed his eyes. He pretended to think about it even as the obvious answer resounded dully in his head.

"I'm homesick," he said instead.

The doctor wrote something down on the clipboard while Sasuke stood there looking as though he'd been struck in the face. The angry look ebbed, clouding over with guilt. He lowered his eyes to the floor.

Itachi did not look at him and silently begged forgiveness for the lie.

"I can see, with your background, why that would be accountable," the doctor said after he finished writing. "But it's not something you should take lightly. Consider filing a request for early leave. I'm also prescribing something to calm your nerves so this doesn't happen again. Take it regularly with your current medication until you go home, all right?"

Itachi nodded.

The doctor placed the clipboard under his arm and glanced at his watch. "A nurse will be in shortly to prep you for discharge. If you experience another blackout, come back immediately. It may take a few days before the blood clears from your lungs. In the mean time, plenty of bed rest will do you good."

"Thank you," Itachi said.

The doctor nodded to them both before leaving the room. The door gently clicked closed behind him, leaving a stifling silence in its wake.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Sasuke asked lowly.

There was no response.

"If my wanting to stay here stressed you out that much, you should have said something," Sasuke ground out. "I'm not a little kid, Itachi. I can handle it if you say no."

When the room remained silent, Sasuke raised his head and looked at him in exasperation. He could have lost him temper, then. In any other situation, he would have. But there was no point because he already knew what his brother's answer would be.

He passed a hand over his face, clenching his jaw in frustration. Then quite suddenly the tension melted out of him and his shoulders sagged. He dropped his hand and looked at him powerlessly.

"Stop thinking about me so much," he said, "and start thinking about yourself. Or you're going to die."

Itachi said nothing. Sasuke narrowed his eyes in concern, taking in the listlessness in his brother's features. He was about to speak again when a short spasm passed through Itachi's body and he immediately brought his hand to his mouth.

Sasuke snatched a handful of paper towels by the sink and quickly moved towards him. The papers grew dark with red liquid where Itachi pressed them to his lips. The sight sent another wave of panic coursing through Sasuke, but it comforted him slightly to see that the blood didn't seem fresh; the colour was darker and duller than it had been that morning.

Still, the sooner the nurse got there with his medication, the better. He was not willing to take his brother's word for it any longer.

Reaching out, Sasuke used the call light by the bed and waited. Ten minutes passed before he pressed the button again. Then again. Then he was picking it up and hurling it across the room in fury.

"Sasuke—" Itachi began, cutting himself off when his brother stormed out of the room.

The heavy footsteps soon disappeared down the hall. His gaze dropped to the pale blue wristband on his arm, tracing the letters of his name. He didn't have to think twice about why no one was coming. But it pained him to realise that Sasuke would have to learn why the hard way.

* * *

><p>The minutes passed steadily with no end in sight and Sasuke felt his self-control slowly slipping to the point where he wanted to scream. Every member of the hospital staff he encountered responded with either a shake of the head or a re-direction, leading him in circles around the floor until he swore under his breath and went down to the main floor.<p>

He didn't care anymore. The first white coat he'd lay eyes on was getting dragged back upstairs to Itachi's room. It didn't help that his fear was mounting again at the thought of leaving his ill brother alone for ten minutes while he ran around looking for a nurse.

He was just about to pursue a doctor making his way to the elevator when he caught sight of the two figures at the reception desk. He felt a flood of relief when he recognized the unmistakable black hood and the set of blond pigtails.

Unthinkingly, he ran up to them, getting the attention of the receptionist behind the desk.

Kankuro blinked when he saw the slightly alarmed look that passed over the woman's face. Then he heard someone take his name behind him.

"Kankuro—"

He and Temari turned around, pausing in surprise at the sight of Sasuke standing there. The boy was still dressed in his pajamas.

"Sasuke?" Kankuro's eyes flicked over him before his voice instantly became sharp. "What happened?"

Sasuke looked between the two of them, short of breath. He didn't care how he sounded when his voice cracked. "I need help."

Temari and Kankuro quickly exchanged looks. Then Temari took a step towards him, her tone urgent. "Where's his room?"

Sasuke immediately turned around and started leading the way. He briefed them on what had happened on the way to the second floor, missing the way Temari's expression flickered at the mention of Itachi's cough worsening.

She said nothing until they neared the door, at which point she came to an abrupt stop and reached out to hold Sasuke's arm.

"Do you remember the name of the doctor?" she asked when he turned to look at her questioningly.

He paused a moment before nodding. Temari released him and beckoned for Kankuro to go with him.

"The nurse's station is on the third floor. Find whoever's working under the physician and bring her here. And Kankuro..." she gave her brother a steely look. "Find out why they broke protocol and brief me when you get back. I'll stay with him just in case."

Sasuke seemed reluctant at first, but relented when Temari gave him a reassuring look. "I have full authority over the staff. I can have a doctor up in thirty seconds if anything happens."

She watched them depart down the hall before she turned around and pushed open the door.

The room was dead silent and had a medicinal smell lingering in it when she entered. The hush was mildly alarming and she quickly crossed the threshold until the bed came into view. Her breath almost rushed out of her in relief when she spotted Itachi quietly sitting there, head lowered to examine the IV in his hand.

"Jeez, Uchiha," she said, slightly short of breath. "Way to get out of a meeting."

He raised his head and went still at the sight of her. She smiled automatically, if only to keep from flinching when she saw how pale he was. His features remained blank for a moment, but then his eyes widened fractionally.

"The presentation," he said. "I—"

She immediately cut him off with a wave and moved closer to the bed. "Forget that. Kankuro substituted and we pulled it off without a hitch."

He seemed to relax minutely at that but it didn't last long. His features soon became unreadable again and she watched him with slight concern before speaking again.

"Your brother told us what happened," she said, making it a point to look at him and not the pile of bloody tissues on the table. He didn't respond because there wasn't really anything for him to say. Temari pressed her lips together at the sight of the call light lying in the corner of the room.

She sighed, shrugging off her holster and fan before dropping them in a nearby chair. "I'm sorry about this."

"Don't apologise," he said quietly.

"The hospital staff will be dealt with," she promised. Then her resolve wavered into contrition. "I was considering yelling at you for not coming to a doctor sooner, but I guess your foresight was better than mine."

He didn't say anything as she reached out to examine the empty bag of IV solution.

"They didn't even do this properly," she muttered softly, frowning at the injection site on his hand. The area was bruised a vivid purple around the needle. He glanced at it, feeling his hand throb as he shifted slightly. Neither of them had to voice the reason for the neglect.

She looked at it a little longer before raising her head. "Do you want me to take it out?"

At his questioning glance, she elaborated. "They gave me basic medic training during the war. Hooked up a couple of these while I was doing rounds in the infirmary." She paused. "Unless you want to wait for the nurse."

"No," he said, sounding grateful for the offer. "I would appreciate it."

She nodded and moved over to the sink in the corner of the room. He watched her roll up her sleeves and wash her hands before she opened the overhead cabinets for a pair of latex gloves.

She felt the entire process calm her down somewhat and returned to his side with a wad of gauze. He didn't speak or react when she took a seat on the edge of the bed. She glanced up to make sure he was comfortable before reaching for the tape binding the tubing to his hand.

Checking didn't help. He was staring sightlessly at his hand with the same closed off expression he'd worn since she came in. It looked both alien and familiar, the latter slowly occurring to her because it was the same expression he'd worn when they'd first met three months ago. The realisation perturbed her more than she was prepared for.

Carefully, she peeled back the tape and bit the inside of her mouth at the full extent of the bruising. Then she placed the gauze over the site and slid the catheter out in one smooth motion.

She threw it in the sharps container and turned her attention to the box in her lap. When she drew out the bandage and he merely stared at it, the corners of her lips twitched into a wry smile.

"It's standard procedure."

His gaze met hers at the familiarity of the words. Then he looked elsewhere as she carefully applied the bandage, even though it was quickly becoming clear that her efforts weren't helping. Despite her attempt to be gentle, the fingers of his left hand were steadily tightening their grip on the bedspread.

Temari stared at him, knowing him well enough to realise it couldn't just be the nurse's neglect or the pain of a botched IV that had him acting like this. Peeling off her gloves, she threw them in the trash before turning back to him with narrowed eyes.

"Itachi."

He seemed taken aback by the address but even more so when he turned his head and found her staring intently at him. There were several seconds of silence.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

She didn't know why it bothered her as much as it did when he didn't answer. He'd never been very communicative about himself to begin with, but she was certain that if his behaviour was a result of guilt over his brother or guilt for missing the presentation, he would have at least told her.

But he didn't say anything.

Instead, the shuttered look on his face slowly faded and she wasn't quite prepared for the way those dark eyes took focus on her.

It made her feel exposed in a way that was completely foreign, as if all the times they'd met before this his attention had been elsewhere—always distant and avoidant in some subtle way. It wasn't distant now, and the intensity of it had her feeling more vulnerable than she'd been while under his genjutsu.

He didn't speak and didn't have to. That look was all it took to convey that his preoccupation had nothing to do with what she was thinking and everything to do with her.

Before she could bring herself to speak, she heard someone stepping into the room and looked behind her. Kankuro and Sasuke were standing there staring at them.

She quickly rose to her feet as Itachi turned away.

"What happened?" she demanded.

In response, Kankuro reached behind him and pushed forward a frightened-looking woman. He also kept a secure hand on Sasuke's shoulder in case the boy tried physically attacking her.

"Some idiot was spreading rumours in the nurses' station," he said, shooting an aggravated look at the woman. "Apparently she caught wind and decided to ditch without telling anyone."

The air in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Temari turned to her, her voice sheer ice. "What's your unit number?"

The nurse took a step back, cowed by the waves of anger emanating towards her.

"Unit three," she said shakily. "I was going to pass off my assignment, but I—"

"Save it," Temari said tersely. "You violated hospital policy. You're relieved of duty and you, along with your entire unit, will be referred to the bureau of investigation for misconduct and negligence."

The woman mouthed wordlessly, her fists going slack by her sides.

"You're off your assignment," Temari concluded. "Go back to your station and inform the others."

The woman's shoulders slumped as she saw that defending herself was futile. Nodding stiffly, she bowed her head and shuffled out of the room.

"I've gotta report this," Temari muttered, glancing at her watch. "Kankuro, get another nurse up here to handle her assignment. I'm going to go see Gaara."

He gave a two-finger salute. "Got it."

Temari paused, then, glancing over her shoulder at Itachi. A strange expression passed over her face when she saw him staring silently at the bandage on the back of his hand. He looked as though he hadn't heard anything they'd said.

She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it when she remembered Kankuro and Sasuke were in the room. Instead, she gave him one final glance before heading towards the door.

"I'll see you later, Uchiha. Take care."

She briefly clapped Sasuke on the shoulder on the way out and then she was gone, her footsteps fading behind the closing door. Kankuro heaved a sigh and sauntered over to Itachi's bedside, bringing him out of his reverie when he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry about all this," Kankuro said as Itachi looked at him in mild surprise. "Not exactly a great way to end a trip, eh?"

Itachi managed a thin semblance of a smile when he saw the rueful one the other man was giving him.

Kankuro dropped his arm and stepped back, turning to glance at the wall clock. "I'm gonna go grab you a proper nurse and get you out of here so you can rest up at home. Get well soon, Itachi-san."

"Thank you," Itachi murmured back, before turning his gaze back to the bedspread.

Kankuro then started towards the door, sparing Sasuke a humourless smirk before he left the room. He didn't get far, though, because the door opened a few seconds after him and Sasuke stopped him in the hall.

"What? You guys need something?" he inquired.

Sasuke looked at the older boy with an unreadable expression. Usually he had a barb ready on the tip of his tongue whenever he was around the puppeteer, because the guy was so infuriatingly juvenile most of the time. But the light-heartedness Sasuke had come to associate with him had been nowhere to be found earlier, when Kankuro had stormed into the nursing station and chewed out every last one of them.

He hadn't stopped until he'd found the one responsible, and even now he was going back to make amends for someone else's mistake.

Sasuke suddenly felt an enormous swell of gratitude he didn't quite know what to do with, so he just stood there. Kankuro eventually blinked in confusion and gave him a questioning look. Shifting uncomfortably, Sasuke lowered his eyes.

"Thank you," he finally muttered.

There was a brief silence.

Then Kankuro reached out and cuffed his shoulder. "It was nothing, man."

Sasuke looked at him, a little surprised. Then his features relaxed and he nodded, once. Kankuro gave a little wave and turned to depart down the hall, only to come to a sudden stop when something occurred to him.

"Hey."

Sasuke paused with his hand on the door handle. "What?"

Kankuro pursed his lips thoughtfully before speaking. "When we got back to the room before, did you notice anything weird?"

Sasuke's brows knitted together. "Like what?"

He shrugged uncertainly. "You know. I thought maybe it was my imagination but it seems like something's going on between your brother...and my sister..."

Sasuke looked at him incredulously when he realised what Kankuro was implying. "Don't be stupid."

"I'm serious," Kankuro said, eyebrows raised. "At least it looks that way after last night."

At Sasuke's bewildered look, Kankuro clarified. "They hung out during the festival. You didn't know?"

Well, that was news to him. Sasuke found himself considering what he'd said. The room had been oddly silent when they'd entered and she'd been seated unexpectedly close to his brother, but that was all he'd noticed because his focus was on getting Itachi his medicine.

To his displeasure, he was now running over the scene again in his head out of morbid curiosity. When he noticed Kankuro staring at him expectantly, he shook the image from his thoughts and snorted. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Kankuro shrugged and started off down the hall again. "Just saying, is all."

Sasuke stared after him, nonplussed. Then he opened the door and walked back into the room to wait for the nurse.

She arrived about five minutes later. As she assessed Itachi and explained to him the dosage of his medication, Sasuke found himself getting irritated with the fact that he couldn't get Kankuro's suggestion out of his head.

He watched Itachi, noting the way he listened and nodded to the nurse seemingly attentively. But Sasuke knew his brother far better than Itachi gave him credit for, because the look was a mask that was failing to disguise the complete and utter detachment Itachi had with the entire situation.

His mind was somewhere else and his body on autopilot. It persisted even after they left, with Sasuke saying nothing to him about it as they made the walk back to the apartment. There was no point in asking directly, because he knew by now that Itachi would never burden him with his troubles, even at the expense of his own health.

That didn't dissuade Sasuke from thinking about it, though, and the more he thought about it, the more he wondered what could possibly be accountable.

Itachi was not one to hold grudges. If he'd been stressed or upset about Sasuke wanting to stay in Suna before this, it didn't make sense for him to be upset about it now when it was obvious that they were going to go home.

Itachi was not resentful, either. He wouldn't be this withdrawn just because of the hospital's mistreatment. On the contrary, Sasuke thought in annoyance. He'd probably say he deserved it.

But most of all, Itachi was not petty. He wouldn't do this just to teach Sasuke a lesson for giving him a hard time about staying. He was the type to cut off his own hand if it somehow meant benefitting his little brother.

Sasuke's thoughts continued to stew on the subject long after they'd made it home and night fell. He lay awake in bed after Itachi fell asleep, wracking his brain.

It just didn't make sense. He'd pointed out that Itachi was happier and healthier here than he'd been back home. Itachi had even agreed with him on that. But then things started to go downhill health wise, right around the time they'd both started spending more time with their mission partners.

Slowly, he started piecing it together. Itachi's increasingly common distractions. The insomnia and restlessness. The doctor's diagnosis of stress. And his most frequent preoccupation—

_I was helping Temari-san at the greenhouse. I was assisting Temari-san at the academy. Temari-san needed a Konoha representative. Temari-san. Temari-san. Temari-san._

And against his will, he thought of what Kankuro had said at the hospital—when he'd walked in on them and she'd been sitting so close to him on the bed; and his brother, for the most fleeting of moments, looking at her as though he'd been...about...to...

Sasuke's eyes widened in realisation. _Holy shit._

* * *

><p>He didn't sleep that night.<p>

Despite his restlessness, he remained in bed through the morning and into the afternoon, brooding. Sasuke would never admit that in his genin days, he had given into curiosity and peeked over Naruto's shoulder when the boy had pilfered one of Kakashi's _Come Come Paradise_ books. He'd severely regretted it, of course, but it had made for educational reading.

Unfortunately, that had been the extent of his learning as far as relationships went. And now, thinking about his brother in the same light...he found the comparison kind of gross. And weird.

And not just because he was his brother, but because Itachi had always seemed impervious to those kinds of things. The thought instantly made Sasuke frown in self-reproach. Extraordinary or not, his brother was only human. It was only logical he'd feel this way at some point.

And for something like this to cause such serious physical ramifications—he wasn't surprised.

The love of Uchiha Itachi was a silent, smouldering, self-destructive one.

It had taken him a while to figure it out, but he'd finally arrived at a sobering conclusion. The only reason something as inane as a girl was causing his brother a slow death was that this was something far more serious than a crush; plus, going on Itachi's history of reticence and his desire to keep things peaceful, it appeared he hadn't even told her yet; and finally, based on everything he'd learned about female behaviour from his past pursuers, it seemed that Sabaku no Temari did not feel the same way.

Sasuke wasn't blind. He'd noticed how comfortable the Kazekage's sister felt working with his brother, but that was all it was—a good partnership. Itachi was extremely hard to read and Sasuke credited that for successfully hiding what he'd only just figured out. If Temari was feeling anything close to what Itachi was feeling, Sasuke would have to credit her with being even more well-acted and unreadable than his brother. And that was frankly impossible.

He took a deep breath and released it, closing his eyes in a scowl.

Granted, he'd been pretty angry when he'd realised that Itachi had lied about being 'homesick.' Not to mention, he'd felt extremely shitty for a while thinking the hospitalisation had been his fault. But as the hours passed and he continued thinking, the ire gradually faded.

Despite himself, he could not stay mad at Itachi. The man had never done a selfish thing in his life. In some twisted way, Itachi probably felt that telling anyone his dilemma was equivalent to creating unnecessary trouble. And besides, what would he get from confiding in Sasuke, anyway? What advice could he, his little brother, possibly offer?

None, probably. But it would at least lessen the burden of keeping it a secret. As to why Itachi hadn't told Temari yet, that was a mystery Sasuke was unwilling and unready to delve into. But he could at least support him, in the best way he knew how by just being there. Even if the situation in question made him extremely uncomfortable, it was the least he could do.

He lay in bed for another five minutes before rising abruptly and starting towards the door.

Itachi raised his head from his book when the bedroom door closed with a slam. He found himself staring up at his little brother a moment later. Sasuke stared back, an accusing look on his face.

"How long were you planning on keeping this from me?"

Itachi blinked. "What are you talking about, Sasuke?"

"The reason why your condition is getting worse. Why didn't you tell me?"

His voice remained carefully blank. "And what reason is that?"

Sasuke glared. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. The fact that you're—"

Itachi stared at him expectantly.

Sasuke's glare wavered. He almost flinched. "You—"

There was a long moment of silence. When Sasuke finally spoke, it was with a great amount of difficulty. "You like...the Kazekage's sister."

It was a testament to Itachi's inscrutability that he didn't react at all. Sasuke was expecting it, but it still astonished him how Itachi could survey him thoughtfully before replying. "I didn't think it was important."

Sasuke overcame his shock at the nonchalant admittance long enough to scowl. "Not important? You coughing up blood and passing out is not important?"

"My condition is being treated," he said, returning his attention to his book. "When we return home, this problem will go away on its own."

Sasuke felt the indignation ebb out of him. "Then you're not going to tell her."

"No," Itachi said, flipping a page.

Now he felt foolish. Itachi appeared unconcerned—almost apathetic—about something he'd been fretting over all night. It was like Itachi was reassuring him rather than the other way around. Fleetingly, he found himself wondering if he'd arrived at the wrong conclusion. But then he looked at the too-calm expression on his brother's face and recalled his behaviour in the hospital, and a feeling of resolve replaced his uncertainty as he remembered exactly who he was dealing with.

Dropping the accusing tone, Sasuke looked at him expressionlessly. "...you should."

Itachi's eyes stilled on the page. Sasuke just stood there watching him, searching for any hint into what his brother was thinking. Slowly, Itachi lowered the book and closed it, setting it aside.

There was a long silence. Sasuke didn't bother attempting to fill it. He just watched as the seconds slowly chipped away at Itachi's mask, gradually revealing the face of someone who'd grown incredibly weary and resigned.

He didn't speak. He didn't confide. Sasuke knew he wouldn't. But he hoped that allowing him to at least show it—allowing him to lean, however briefly on his flimsy support—provided him some semblance of comfort.

Whether or not it helped was something he couldn't ascertain. Itachi stayed in his company for the rest of the day, doing more listening than talking. It was obvious he was thinking about what to do with the time he had left, and whether doing anything at all was the right decision.

Sasuke chose to leave him to his thoughts and didn't pry. Night fell, and after ensuring he took his medication along with the relaxant, Sasuke dropped into bed and immediately dozed off.

Itachi stayed in the living room, choosing to lie on the sofa and look out the window at the sand swept city. The relaxant did its work, lulling him into a state of half-wakefulness as he watched the city lights blink in the distance.

They gradually grew dimmer, blinking so quickly it looked like they were fluttering. It was the sand, he realised, hearing it rush on the gale. It buried everything. He found himself having to reach down and brush off the piles accumulating over his legs.

"You've been here a while. Don't you miss home?"

_I do,_ he thought, wearily aware of the grains skittering along his shirt.

There was laughter. "That's all there is to this place. You should go back." A sardonic note entered her voice and a hand came up to rest over the insignia on his brow. "Leaves don't grow in Suna."

She was right in front of him but impossible to see because the light was glinting so brightly off her forehead protector.

_I should_, he agreed eventually, reaching out and placing his hand over the hourglass.

The light blinked out. Immediately he could see her clearly; see how close she was to him.

He could see the price for that closeness.

Closeness that brought him serenity he only otherwise found in memories. Closeness that brought him happiness he could not find in the leaves, but would brave sun and sand for.

And he would, he thought, eyes lowering to the grains gradually burying him in the dune. He would, if it meant closeness was as simple as sliding his hand over top of hers.

She leaned forward and showed him it was, bringing her lips to the place beneath his lashes. But with it came the weight of her fingers easing the fabric from his forehead, leaving it to drop somewhere in the sand behind him. With it came the drifting sand, skirting through their twining fingers to bury the last leaf in the desert.

And though his head swam and his heart beat heavy with euphoria, he shut his eyes and drew away, knowing that was a price too heavy to pay.

His hand dropped from the hourglass, flooding him with light again.

He opened his eyes. The fan whirred gently on the other side of the door, merging with Sasuke's soft breathing. The room was soft with the glow of dawn and outside the twinkling lights had vanished. Itachi stared up at the ceiling, slowly relaxing his grip on the covers.

He could not do this anymore.

Dregs of medicine flowed gently through him, reducing the immensity of that realisation to dull fact.

Slowly, he blinked away the remains of his sleep and sat up. A blanket pooled into his lap. He looked down at it, figuring Sasuke must have draped it over him some time in the night. The thought brought back remnants of the day before and he pressed a hand to his face.

Gradually, the room brightened as the sun climbed and warmth pressed on his closed eyelids. He eventually opened them, his gaze falling on the bag he kept on the side table. Reaching forward, he opened it and searched for the object he'd kept inside for three months.

He found it a moment later and set it on the table. Then he withdrew a kunai from the bag and made a small cut on his finger. The blood seeped along the edge of the cut until it collected into a drop. He reached out and pressed it onto the seal of the scroll.

It opened with a hiss, releasing a plume of white smoke and stray sand. He unfurled the paper until it opened to the peculiar looking seal on the right side. His signature—made in a drop of blood—was visible in the centre of the seal on the left. On the right, he read her name as the witness and guarantor to the signing. In the centre was a deadline set for three days from today.

That would signal the end of his mission and the end of his stay. Once activated, the scroll would conflagrate and his security clearance would expire.

He could have waited the three days, but the mission was already over. The authorization of early leave would be left to the guarantor to process. Activating her copy only required voiding the seal.

There was still enough blood left on his finger. He brought it to the deadline in the centre of the parchment and drew it across the date. It glistened there for a moment, soaking into the paper. Then the seals vanished and the scroll furled closed with a snap.

He sat there a moment longer, merely looking at it. Then he rose to his feet and left to get ready.

Sasuke stayed asleep even an hour later, oblivious when Itachi left a note on his bedside table saying he was going to the administration building.

He took the scroll and left the apartment a little before nine o'clock—the time when the office usually opened. The walk was familiar and uneventful, quickened by the morning traffic of pedestrians and academy students. He got there in ten minutes, five minutes before nine.

The doors were already unlocked by the time he arrived. The building was still relatively empty, silent except for the occasional office worker setting up for the day. He made his way through the halls until he arrived at the right door.

The corridor was empty and silent. He took a seat on one of the empty chairs outside the room and waited.

A few minutes passed. Gradually, the sounds of passing footsteps grew in frequency and the building started coming alive. The voices of workers could be heard mingling with their first appointees of the day. The aroma of coffee wafted through the air.

It was another few minutes before footsteps could be heard approaching from the stairwell. He waited to see if they would emerge into the hall or continue up to the second floor. They stopped outside the door, replaced with the shuffling of papers.

Just as he returned his attention to the bulletin board across the hall, the door swung open and the footsteps stopped just next to him.

He looked over and found Temari staring at him in surprise, her scroll balanced on her stack of folders.

There was a brief silence before he rose to his feet and inclined his head in greeting. "Temari-san."

She blinked at him before looking down at her scroll. Then her gaze flitted to the one he was holding by his side.

"Hey," she greeted, sounding a bit caught off guard. "I got the alert an hour ago. Was that you?"

He nodded and reached out to relieve her of the folders she was carrying as she dug a ring of keys out of her pocket to open the door. She beckoned him in, turning on the lights and setting her bag down as he entered behind her and put the folders on the desk.

The door swung closed behind him. As the lights maintained a steady flicker and the noise settled, she seemed to come to her senses and turned to look at him incredulously.

"What the hell are you doing here, Uchiha? You just got out of the hospital yesterday."

"I'm fine," he assured her, knowing it didn't mean much coming from him when she shot him a disbelieving look. "This couldn't wait."

At that, she looked down at the table where he placed the scroll in front of her.

Her expression dissolved from sceptical into one he couldn't quite decipher. She looked up at him again. "You voided the deadline?"

"Yes."

If she was expecting him to elaborate, she didn't show it. Instead, she took a seat on the edge of the desk. He said nothing, merely watching her as she gave him a penetrative look.

"You had three days left. What happened?"

He was expecting the question and answered without hesitating. "The mission is over. I was planning to leave on schedule, but my relapse made that impossible."

"Shouldn't you wait, then?" she questioned, her brow furrowing slightly. "To recover before you make the trip back?"

"The Hokage is the only one capable of treating my condition," he replied. There was a pause. "I can't risk another relapse."

It was a faultless reason. He could tell she agreed with it, noting the understanding, if not pensive look that crossed her features. He lowered his eyes to the scroll, waiting for the moment she picked it up and took care of it. But she remained where she was, staying silent until he had no choice but to look up at her.

He wasn't expecting the long, searching look she gave him when he met her gaze.

"What happened yesterday?" she asked.

He blinked, uncomprehending.

"In the hospital room," she said, frowning slightly. "Were you angry at me for something?"

His fists slackened behind his back. Gradually, his arms came to his sides and he looked at her first in surprise, and then compunction. In retrospect, he understood how his behaviour might have seemed that way.

It had been a mistake. He had slipped; the circumstances and exhaustion raking away his facade until he hadn't had the energy or will to hold it up anymore.

And now, a distant voice was warning him. You're doing it right now. You're slipping.

He attempted to get his bearings back.

"No," he finally said, voice quiet when he noticed her looking at the bandage on his hand. "I wasn't angry."

The silence in the room was brief but nothing like the frequent, comfortable lapses they'd shared while working. All at once the space felt too small and her eyes too discerning. It was the greenhouse and bay window and lookout all over again without the lies to fall back on.

And without the lies, the mask cracked completely, falling away with the rest of his plan to get in, get out, and leave.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, feeling inconceivably bare in the smallness of the room, "if I gave you that impression."

There was another brief silence. Then her frown dissolved into a small, familiar smile. It almost seemed relieved.

"It just weirded me out, is all," she said, the teasing lightness returning to her voice. "Or were you just embarrassed I saw you in a hospital gown?"

He wished she knew what her words did to him, and how at ease they could make him feel. Her demeanor returned to the way it'd been that night on the lookout, when he'd first slipped and showed her his fractured edges. The office persona changed into the Temari who was relaxed and considered him her friend, and the transformation now left him at a complete loss at what to do with himself.

She reached out and picked up his scroll, shooting him a reproachful look as she unfurled it on the desk. "Wish you'd told me about this sooner, but I guess it can't be helped. Gaara gave me the week off and I was planning another visit to the school."

She paused, unfurling her scroll next and poising her ink brush above it. "You'll be leaving tomorrow, right?"

His voice came out smothered. "Yes."

Her lower lip turned up in a disappointed sort of way but she nodded, bringing the brush down to make the adjustments. The room was silent as the ink traced over the parchment and she signed her name underneath the amendment.

"That's final, then," she said, blowing a tuft of hair out of her eyes as she drew back. "I need you to sign it."

Wordlessly, he moved forward and circled around the desk until he was standing beside her. She handed him the brush and leaned against the filing cabinets as he reached down to write his name. She watched him in silence for a few seconds before speaking.

"I guess it came at the right time," she said, sounding amused. Her head leaned back against the drawers and she smirked at the ceiling. "Kankuro said the most ridiculous thing the other day when I told him I was with you at the festival."

The tip of the brush stopped moving. It lingered on the spot where he'd finished signing his name. He stared down at it, watching the black ink slowly bleed out into the parchment.

"He's got the maturity of a five-year-old, though, so I'm not surprised," she continued, sighing lamentably. "I mentioned we got along well, and he took it to mean you had a thing for me." She closed her eyes and smiled dryly. "I'm apparently unbearable to be around, otherwise."

He slowly pulled the brush back and placed it back in the well. Straightening, he stared sightlessly at some point on the desk as a humming noise gradually filled his ears.

The compulsion that came with it was automatic.

Swallow it, his mind told him. All of it; the words and the will and the emotion. All the risk and the turmoil and possibility of regret. Swallow it till it poisons your insides because it's all that might save the tenuous little thing you both share.

The warning blared once like an alarm. His instinct was to follow it because doing so had always served him in the past. But this time he remained still, letting it fade into silence because the truth had already occurred once to him this morning. It was repeating itself again now.

He could not do this anymore.

His body was falling apart. Swallowing his feelings was a disease more pestilent than the illness he actually had. He could have done it if he wanted, but he was pretty sure it was going to kill him if he didn't get it off his chest. Had he been on his own, it wouldn't have been a problem. But he had Sasuke to consider.

And he'd done enough lying in his lifetime. Frankly, he was tired of it. Really, really tired.

Slowly, the tenseness melted from his frame and he breathed a small, inaudible sigh. With his arms slack by his sides, he finally spoke, nearly quiet enough to go unheard.

"He wasn't wrong."

She cut herself off in the middle of a sentence. "What?"

He looked at the parchment a little longer before turning his head towards her. "What your brother said."

She just stared at him. Then her voice faltered. "You mean you—?"

He said nothing and stared back.

"Are you joking?" she said.

He shook his head.

Her face remained blank for a moment. Then a small smirk appeared, followed quickly by a grin. She attempted to laugh it off and failed.

"You're kidding, right?" she said, looking at him like he was insane. "I can never tell when you're joking."

He shook his head again. It wasn't like him to be so mute, but his throat seemed to have swelled shut. It was incredibly painful in a way he'd never experienced before.

Endure it, he told himself detachedly, musing over the crushing weight invading his chest. For once, he couldn't think of anything to compare it to. Nothing could come close. So he remained still, surrendering himself to the stranglehold of emotion in the hope that it would pass soon.

At some point he noticed she'd stopped smiling. In fact, she'd been staring at him with a strange expression on her face for several seconds.

Oh, he realized, recognizing what it was. Abject horror.

"You're serious," she stated, voice blank.

He managed to loosen his throat enough to speak. "Yes."

There was an unbearable moment of silence.

She seemed to come to her senses soon after and took in the space between them. Suddenly, the room became inexplicably, intolerably small. A slow sort of stiffness overtook her, her back pressing the cabinet instinctively.

When she finally spoke, her response was rather unexpected. "Let's find a place to sit. You look like you're going to be sick."

He merely nodded and let her go out first, inwardly glad for the suggestion because he felt a hair away from throwing up.

She locked the door behind them and quickly led him down the hall and out of the building. He followed a few paces behind, numb and not really registering where they were going until she stopped at a small tea shop on the street and ushered him in.

Once he was inside, he recognized the shop as one of the few they'd frequented over the past months. They took a table in the far corner by the window, not speaking until the waitress came by.

They murmured their orders and fell silent again. The waitress returned five minutes later and left their drinks on the table. There was another long stretch of silence. Neither of them could bring themselves to look up from their tea.

"I'm sorry," Temari said at last. Her voice sounded a mix of discomfort and terseness. "It wouldn't work out."

"I know," he said tonelessly.

His reply seemed to catch her off guard. She was quiet for a while, trying to think of what to say to that. In a feeble attempt to ward off the awkwardness, she added a spoon of sugar to her tea. He didn't look at her, instead staring at some point at the front of the store. He felt like the fruit carving sitting on the counter. Completely gouged out of his insides.

She tried to fill the oppressive silence by adding another spoonful of sugar to her tea. When she'd mixed it as much as she could, she set the spoon down and finally raised her head.

"I have my responsibilities to my village," she said firmly. "You have yours. I couldn't relocate. And I know you wouldn't, either."

"Of course," he said.

"The whole long-distance thing..." she trailed off.

He shook his head. "I know."

There was another long pause. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

There was only one thing left to say that could possibly comfort them both, and its brevity belied the seemingly impossible nature of the task.

"I will get over it," he said.

She glanced at him with an expression that was painful to look at. He let his eyes linger on it for a second before lowering his gaze and raising his tea cup to his lips. She followed suit a moment later, the gentle clink of ceramic diffusing the silence.

They stayed in the cafe for another ten minutes. Then Temari threw down a few bills and stood up. He half-expected her to walk out on him, but then she spoke.

"Since you're leaving tomorrow," she mentioned, trailing off for a few seconds, "...want to make one last visit to the greenhouse?"

He raised his head. She was looking at him with a strained expression, a thin smile wavering on her lips. She was trying very hard to pretend the last thirty minutes had never happened.

Despite himself, he couldn't help smiling faintly in return, even as he was shaking his head. "I have to go back and tell Sasuke. He doesn't know yet."

She nodded in understanding and pushed in her chair, but she remained where she was.

"We're going the same way," she said.

He was glad he avoided seeing the way she looked at him then because he could hear the regret in her voice.

Silently, he stood up and pushed his chair in.

The walk back to the crossroads was long and surreal. He wasn't overly conscious of the way they weren't talking because he mostly felt empty. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but it was a relief from the deep ache the constant repression had carved in his chest.

It was a temporary respite, he was sure. Like being stunned by a blow before the real pain kicked in, even though he'd already seen the blow coming.

She said a few offhand remarks about the greenhouse on the way, speaking in short, quiet murmurs. He wasn't really listening to the details because in that moment the words meant nothing. Instead, a part of him was welling up with a strange and blissful kind of relief.

He'd told her. It had gone exactly as he'd anticipated it would, but there was none of the regret he'd thought he'd feel. He supposed the empty feeling in his chest was there for something else, then, and he comforted himself with the fact that if he was going to dwell on this and look back at the things he would have done differently, at least this moment wouldn't count among them.

He didn't realise they'd reached the fork in the road until she'd turned towards him and said his name.

"—I'll let Kankuro know," he heard as he finally focused on her. "If nothing comes up, I'll drop by to see you guys off."

When he nodded, she pressed her lips together as though she was mustering the effort to say something else. Then she seemed to think better of it and let it go. Her features relaxed into a softer expression. "See you later."

He watched her turn and leave, then, her hand raised in a half-hearted wave. When she'd departed a decent distance, he turned and started back to the apartment.

It was still quiet when he entered. He went to his room to change his clothes and returned to the living room. The sofa sank under his weight and he shut his eyes, feeling suddenly and intensely exhausted.

The bathroom door opened a few minutes later. Sasuke came to a stop in the doorway, staring at the motionless form lying on the sofa.

"Start packing, Sasuke," Itachi said without raising his head. "We're leaving tomorrow."

Sasuke blinked at him, first in surprise and then in understanding when he remembered the note his brother had left for him. His mouth opened, and then closed again.

"What happened?" he finally managed to ask.

"I requested early leave."

"No, I mean..." his little brother stared at him in vexation. "You're depressed."

"I'm tired," Itachi responded, and he sounded it. Incredibly so.

Sasuke said nothing for a few seconds. Then he scowled. "This is because of her, isn't it?"

There were several seconds of silence.

Sasuke took a step into the room. "If you just—"

"I have done abominable things in my lifetime," he interrupted. "Things no person should be able to live with. This is nothing."

Subdued, Sasuke lingered uncertainly in the room a little while longer. Then he mumbled something about starting packing and disappeared into the bedroom.

He didn't come back, something Itachi was inwardly grateful for because that empty feeling in his chest was starting to fill up with something. So far it was familiar enough that he vaguely wondered if it would be any different from what he'd dealt with in the past. Either way, he knew he couldn't avoid it. And he supposed in some twisted sense, she had gotten her payback.

She had hit him. Hard. Only not in the face.

The only thing left to do was to wait and endure. Belief in the adage that time healed all wounds had helped him in the past; it was the only thing that had, and he had to believe it would now.

_This is nothing_, he repeated inwardly, then closed his eyes and waited patiently for the pain to ebb.


	5. Chapter 5, Part 1

The Hazards of Amity

By: firefly

Note: Holy shit. That's all I can say besides I'm sorry for taking so long. But, like I mentioned in another update, I wanted to wrap up a couple fics as _Naruto_ comes to a close. And since I'm a terrible person, **this last chapter will be split into TWO parts**. The second part will be posted very soon, and I swear I'm not bullshitting this time. |D Thank you to everyone for their reviews and patience!

The Hazards of Amity ch.5

The house was dark and silent when Gaara closed the door and stepped into the foyer. He stood in the hallway, noting it was close to 10 PM, and took a moment to shed his robe and hang it on the back of the coat hook. Then he ventured upstairs long enough to wash up and change into plain clothes before returning downstairs.

When he moved closer to the kitchen, Gaara noticed the dim exhaust fan light bleeding into the hallway. Someone was cooking. When he pushed aside the partition and entered, he stopped short at the entrance.

Kankuro was sitting silently at the table and Temari was mixing something at the stovetop.

Gaara stared at his siblings, instantly realising something was amiss. They didn't turn and greet him, for one, and Kankuro was quiet. That in itself was unusual.

And Temari was cooking. His sister never cooked. Not since they'd hired a maid to take care of it three years before.

But the maid was nowhere in sight and neither Temari nor Kankuro had said a single word since he'd stepped into the room. Bemused, he looked to his brother for a clue as to what was going on. Kankuro caught his eye and gave him a warning look, pointing at Temari's back and then shaking his head.

Almost immediately, an acrid smell began filling the kitchen. Kankuro exchanged wary looks with Gaara.

Whatever Temari was mixing was starting to burn. Badly.

"Uh, Temari?" Kankuro finally ventured, breaking the silence. "I think something's burning."

She abruptly stopped mixing. The words seemed to bring her out of some reverie, because she suddenly looked down at the pot and stiffened. Kankuro's eyes widened when she seized the pot and carried it over to the garbage can. They watched, startled, as she upended it and dumped the burnt mixture into the bin.

Then she placed the pot in the sink and just stood there, facing away from them.

"Temari," Gaara finally said, looking at her with concern. "Is something wrong?"

Her shoulders went rigid. Then she slowly turned around.

"Uchiha Itachi is an idiot," she said.

Gaara blinked, nonplussed.

"He doesn't know what's good for him," she continued, suddenly growing heated. "He's practically already half-dead and then he pulls something like _this_."

"Like what?" Kankuro hazarded, grateful she'd finally said something.

Temari threw him a disgruntled look and turned back to the sink.

"Come on, Temari. You can tell us. It's nothing private or gross, is it?"

Temari uttered an exasperated noise and pressed her hands over her face. This was exactly what she hadn't wanted. Her brothers were like bloodhounds, able to detect the slightest change in her mood, and she'd known as soon as she'd come home the night would end in an inquisition.

Though, even if she'd never admit it, a part of her was relieved. She needed to say _something_, if only to keep her head from exploding. And it wasn't as though she had girlfriends to talk this sort of thing over with. As siblings, they'd always had a peculiar relationship; when the occasion demanded it, she was their mother as much as their sister, and they were her confidants as much as her brothers. Perhaps in another family, it would have been weird to share something like this with brothers, but then again they'd never been the poster children for normalcy.

Sighing, Temari turned to them again. Gaara stood with his arms crossed, looking attentive and serious while Kankuro waited expectantly. Temari took another breath and rubbed her temples.

"I brought it up with him," she finally said. "That thing you mentioned a few nights back."

"What thing?" Kankuro asked, oblivious.

She gritted her teeth. "That _thing_. You know..." her voice grew uncharacteristically faint, "about him liking me?"

Kankuro stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending. Then his features slackened in shock. "You mean it's _true_?"

Temari said nothing.

"Holy shit," he said in amazement. "I friggin' knew it!"

Gaara looked between the two of them, waiting for one of them to explain what they were talking about. But Kankuro only shook his head, sounding bemused. "And what, he just admitted it? Just like that?"

"More or less," Temari muttered.

Kankuro whistled in a mixture of marvel and disbelief.

Gaara narrowed his eyes, unappreciative of his exclusion. "What are you both talking about?"

They paused, then, turning their heads to look at their youngest brother. Temari hesitated, wondering how to explain this to him when Kankuro helpfully cut in.

"Sasuke's brother is in love with Temari."

Temari's face turned crimson. "You idiot. Why did you have to say it like that?"

Kankuro shrugged. "If I tried to be subtle about it, we'd be here all night."

Groaning in dismay, Temari couldn't look her youngest brother in the eye and started rubbing her temples again.

Gaara, for his part, somehow managed to contain his surprise. He looked at Kankuro to see if his brother was joking, but when the puppeteer shrugged helplessly, Gaara repeated the words back in his mind again and found that he needed to sit down.

For some reason the thought instantly made him feel ill. In his mind, a love confession equated his sister getting married and moving out of the village. How had this happened so suddenly and without him knowing? Had his sister broken a code of professional conduct? Was she planning to elope? What the hell was the appropriate thing to do besides lock her in the house and murder Uchiha Itachi?

Gaara realised his thoughts were running away with him when he noticed his siblings staring at him in apprehension. He straightened and forced his features into a stoic expression, knowing that even if the subject made him extremely uncomfortable, he had a position to uphold as Kazekage.

"Is this true?" he asked.

Temari reluctantly nodded.

"And you...feel the same way?"

Temari flinched at the question. "No. I don't."

Gaara fell silent, surprised and a little relieved.

"He's a decent person," she continued awkwardly, "but I've only thought of him as a comrade up until now."

"Wait a minute," Kankuro interjected. "I've been bugging you about that guy liking you since the beginning. Didn't that clue you in to think that maybe, hey, Itachi might really have a thing for me?"

She scowled. "He never said or did anything to make me think that. We were just friends."

"Bullshit," Kankuro said. "He had to have done something. Did he do you any special favours? Really go out of his way?"

"No," she insisted.

But when Kankuro raised an eyebrow, her resolve faltered into uncertainty. "Well, he did help a lot during the guest lectures at the academy."

"We'll give him that one," Kankuro said, rolling his eyes. "Anything else?"

Temari studied the table, frowning. "That's it. He helped me out a lot. All the time, actually. At first I just thought he did it because he's a doormat, but then I found out he did it because he's just...considerate like that. Like one time, after work, he helped me record taxonomies for the new greenhouse specimens."

Kankuro stared at her.

Temari blinked. Her eyes suddenly grew wide. "He helped me record taxonomies...for _two hours_."

"You idiot," her brother groaned. "How could you have not noticed that before?"

"I thought he was just being helpful," she said defensively.

"_Nobody _is that helpful! For God's sake, Temari. Who the hell would want to spend two hours recording plant taxonomies?"

"I don't know! It wasn't that obvious at the time!"

Kankuro only shook his head, expression pitying. "Jeez. Poor guy."

Temari shot him a look of betrayal.

Gaara stood there in silence, not understanding how taxonomies had anything to do with Itachi's affections for his sister, but he could see that this was bothering Temari a lot more than she was letting on.

Their upbringing hadn't allowed her to indulge in a social life and she'd sacrificed all romantic pursuit in favour of devoting herself to her village. It had given her a simplicity and candour that was off-putting to most men. Her relation to two Kazekages, along with her own prowess, made her intimidating enough to bar any romantic advances. He could understand why she was so flustered. And for her first confession to come from the likes of Uchiha Itachi—well, it had to be daunting.

It also explained her testiness. Temari was not one to be easily vexed. On the rare occasion it did happen, her usual response was to mediate somewhere between contempt and irritation. This seemed to be a blend of the two further complicated by feelings of genuine sympathy.

And that, more than anything, told him there was something deeper here than just your average niceties between work partners. She wouldn't be in such a state unless the friendship had meant something to her, and it was plain to see she deeply resented Itachi for doing this and bringing such misery upon himself.

Gaara looked thoughtfully at the table.

Objectively, the elder Uchiha was positively fearsome from a shinobi standpoint. He had a horrible, blood-riddled past. He'd been ranked as an S-rank criminal. He could fell formidable shinobi with a blink of an eye. But paradoxically, none of these things seemed to frighten his sister.

No, it was the fact that Uchiha Itachi liked her that had Temari terrified.

Women are strange, Gaara thought.

He was brought out of his stupor by the sound of a knock at the door. Kankuro rose from his seat to go answer it while Temari slumped back against the counter in resignation. Gaara found this side of her bewildering and upsetting, and beside the faint stirring in his heart telling him to find and kill Itachi, he felt a greater impulse to stay and offer her his support, limited as it was.

"Temari," he said quietly, when Kankuro was out of earshot, "I know I can't offer you any advice, but if there is anything I can do, please tell me."

Temari looked at him in surprise. Then her features softened and she stepped forward to place a hand on his shoulder. "No, it's nothing, Gaara. I shouldn't be worrying you with something silly like this in the first place. I can handle it."

"If it can affect you like this," he said, "it's not silly."

Temari's lips parted to speak, but Gaara's brow furrowed and he reached up. "You're strong, Temari. I know you can handle it."

He paused, touching the hand on his shoulder. "But don't handle it alone."

She fell silent, looking at him with an unreadable expression. Then she gently tightened her grip on his shoulder before letting her hand drop.

"Thanks, Gaara."

* * *

><p>Kankuro strode towards the foyer, wondering who in God's name would be knocking at their door this late at night. It was either an emergency or a salesman with a death wish. Hoping for the latter, he steeled himself and pulled the door open.<p>

The porch light came on. Sasuke stood awkwardly on the doorstep.

Kankuro raised his eyebrows. "Well, this is a surprise. Miss me already, junior?"

"Like a cold sore," Sasuke muttered. His eyes travelled from Kankuro's face to the ground, then into the house behind him. He finally spoke, voice terse.

"Are you busy?"

Kankuro studied his face for a moment. Then he stepped aside and held the door open. Sasuke lowered his head and wordlessly stepped inside.

By the time Kankuro locked the door again and turned to face the younger boy, the light in the kitchen was off and his siblings had already gone upstairs. Sasuke stood in the hallway with his hands in his pockets, staring fixedly into the dark.

"Nice night out," Kankuro said. "Take a seat out on the balcony. I'll be right there."

Sasuke said nothing and headed down the hallway as Kankuro went into the kitchen and got some drinks out of the fridge. He roamed around aimlessly for a while, killing enough time for Sasuke to get settled before going ahead to the balcony to join him.

He found him standing near the edge, arms crossed over the railing and looking out at the city.

"Hey," Kankuro greeted casually.

"Hn," Sasuke grunted back.

Kankuro handed him a drink and just stood there, taking his time finishing his own as Sasuke frowned up at the sky. When he was done, he set it down and crossed his arms on the railing next to his friend.

"So our siblings are pretty stupid, huh?"

Sasuke closed his eyes and scowled.

"Gotta hand it to him, though. Your brother has balls of brass."

"My brother is confused."

"He confessed to Temari, of all people. Flat out to her _face_. Who the hell does that?"

"Like I said, he's unwell."

"Hey, don't get me wrong," Kankuro drawled. "Not like I've got my panties in a twist over it. I just noticed Temari being all tense and jumpy at dinner. No one's ever spooked her like that, you know."

"So?" Sasuke said irritably.

"So I'm saying go cheer him up, you jackass. He might still have a chance."

He shook his head. "It's over. Itachi is fatalistic like that."

Kankuro winced. "Poor bastard. He must be pretty torn up about it."

Sasuke deflated, leaning over the railing next to the older boy. "It's pathetic."

"Don't say that. You don't know what it's like."

Sasuke snorted . "And you do?"

"Nah," he admitted, stretching languorously. "But I've seen enough to know when it's real. Like _real_, real. And when that goes wrong, it can ruin a man."

Sasuke was silent for a moment. "You think it's like that?"

Kankuro scratched his head. "Well, maybe. Temari's all right and all, but she's no delicate flower. And she hits like a man."

Sasuke narrowed his eyes, tilting his head back to search the night sky. After a while, he gave up and merely shook his head. "I don't understand him."

"Yeah," Kankuro conceded. "Your brother's nuts."

* * *

><p>The last day came in like all the rest, splaying the same shaft of sunlight across his neck and shoulders. He woke to the familiar warmth, knowing without having to look it was a little past seven.<p>

And because it was the last day, he wanted to run the routine one final time as if it wasn't so, because doing that made this day no different from any other. He washed and made breakfast, thinking of nothing but the next task that lay ahead.

There was still a little left to pack. He brought the bags into the living room, taking his time folding their items as Sasuke went in and out gathering the last of their things. When the apartment was stripped of their belongings, Sasuke stood beside him and helped pack the last of it.

He'd gone over this scenario the night before. The morning had elapsed as he'd anticipated, and as noon and their departure time crept to a close, he watched in expectation as Sasuke's shoulders tensed and the packing slowed to a standstill. Then Sasuke dropped what he was holding and turned towards him.

_Here it comes. _

"Itachi, if you're doing this for me—"

"If I am," he interrupted, "are you going to stop me?"

Sasuke stopped, subdued.

"We are recovering from war," Itachi continued. "It would be selfish to let something like this impede the recovery of Suna and Konoha. I will do what's right for both you and my village. That is my duty as a shinobi and an older brother."

There was a brief silence as Sasuke slowly went back to packing.

"Technically," Sasuke said a few seconds later, "you're not a shinobi anymore."

Itachi paused, turning his head to look at him with an unreadable expression. Sasuke returned his gaze, unwavering.

"That may be true," Itachi said finally. "But I am still your brother."

"And you've done more than enough for me," Sasuke said under his breath.

Itachi fell silent.

The implication of the words only sank in after he'd said them. Sasuke's fists loosened, eyes widening as Itachi lowered his head and turned away. He silently went back to packing.

Sasuke instantly felt like an asshole.

It was no secret his brother wanted nothing more in life than to ensure his happiness. As much as Sasuke hated to admit it, he knew it was all Itachi was living for. Cursing himself, Sasuke ventured over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "I didn't mean it like that."

Itachi dropped his last shirt into the bag and stood there, saying nothing.

"I just—" Sasuke paused, tightening his grip before mumbling the rest. "I just want you to be happy."

Itachi turned to look at him.

If he'd wanted, he could have lied and assured him that he was happy. He could have pretended the words didn't fill him with misery and helplessness and a feeble sort of contentment he felt he didn't deserve. But he would not lie to Sasuke.

Instead, he reached out and pulled him into a hug.

Sasuke stiffened at first. Then he gradually relaxed and brought his hand up to rest against his brother's back. Itachi let him go after a little while, smiling faintly at the embarrassed look on Sasuke's face. Silently, Sasuke moved over to his side and helped him put away the rest.

"She's a powerful kunoichi," he admitted after a while. "And she's well-proportioned."

Itachi looked at him blankly.

"She would bear strong children," he pointed out.

Itachi reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sasuke..."

"She would be an idiot to say no."

He shook his head, trying to stem his amusement. "Sasuke, stop it. I have you. That's enough."

Sasuke opened his mouth to argue, but Itachi shook his head again. "When you marry and have children, they will be my family, too. That will be enough for me."

"You sound like an old man."

Itachi smiled at his brother's tone, partly out of amusement but mostly out of relief. The fight had gone out of Sasuke. Though he was liable to mutter sullenly later on, Itachi knew he would not try arguing with him again.

"I'm going to go return the key," Sasuke said after zipping the last bag closed.

"We'll leave in fifteen minutes, then."

Sasuke nodded and left the apartment, leaving Itachi to move the bags over by the door. They were leaving with more than they'd arrived with, and it took him a few minutes to clear the living room. Itachi reached for the last bag on the coffee table, stopping short when he noticed the spare key underneath.

Dropping the luggage to the floor, he quickly strode to the foyer to catch up to Sasuke. He grabbed the doorknob and pulled it open. Then he stopped dead.

Temari was standing on the other side of it, hand raised to knock. She froze at the suddenness of his appearance, mirroring his expression of blank shock. Then she quickly got a hold of herself and lowered her hand. There was a wrapped package in the crook of her arm.

"Hey," she said, sounding sheepish. "Seems like I just caught you."

"No," he said automatically, "I was waiting for Sasuke."

"Oh," she said. "I see."

At the other end of the hall, Sasuke came to the top of the stairwell, noticed what lay ahead of him, and promptly turned back around.

There was a prolonged moment of silence. Neither of them actively sought to break it, settling for staring at the wall and floor, respectively. Itachi briefly considered inviting her inside because it seemed rude talking to her in the hallway, but then decided that was a bad idea.

So he remained silent, waiting patiently as though the sight of her wasn't pulverizing his emotional well-being into mush. He hoped she would speak soon before his torment could channel itself into a physical outlet. It would be a hell of a time to start coughing up blood.

"Here."

He raised his head when she reached forward and offered him the wrapped package. He took it, hearing the rustle of leaves.

"I just came by to give you this," she said, braving her discomfort and looking him straight on. "As a way of saying thanks for all your help."

He retreated inside long enough to place the plant on the foyer table before turning to her again. "You didn't have to."

"I know," she said, loosely crossing her arms. "I just thought I should." She paused before smiling slightly. "You've got a bit of a green thumb, yourself."

He'd been avoiding looking directly at her face, but the words were so reminiscent of the time they'd spent together that his gaze went there of its own volition.

"I had a good teacher," he said.

There was a brief silence. She just stood there, trying to smile and not quite managing it. He didn't look away this time, wanting to memorize her face because he would probably not see it again. After a few seconds, she extended her hand.

"I guess this is it, then."

He stared at it before slowly forcing himself to take it. Her grip was strong and warm, and at the risk of letting go too quickly, he held on.

"Thank you," he said. "For everything."

She gave a faint smile back. "Travel safe, Uchiha."

Her hand slipped out of his. Then she turned around and started back down the hall. He watched her go, remaining by the door until she disappeared around the corner. When the footsteps faded, he drew back into the apartment and closed the door.

He meandered around a bit, double-checking the bags and giving a final once-over to the apartment. After a while, he found himself back on the living room sofa, waiting for Sasuke.

As far as goodbyes went, he thought it had gone quite well. Quick. Clean. Like cutting the head off a chicken.

A peculiar ache started in his throat and a wry smile spread over his face. He didn't know why it made him want to laugh.

Sasuke returned ten minutes later, stopping just past the doorway when he caught sight of his brother sitting at the edge of the sofa, holding an unfamiliar package in his hands.

Before he could open his mouth to ask, Itachi rose to his feet and met him at the door.

"Let's go, Sasuke."

* * *

><p>Most of the afternoon slipped away indoors, passing with the slow turn of shadows over the office as Temari finished up her remaining paperwork. She worked until there was nothing left and decided to leave the office early.<p>

Neither Gaara nor Kankuro would be home until later, and she did not feel like being alone.

It was a familiar and comforting transition, leaving the formal atmosphere of work behind and emerging to the sight of children running and laughing in the playground. School was already over for the day. She paused near the fence and watched them, breaking into a smile when she noticed them forming seals and miming fire jutsu at each other.

She rapped her fan against the fence. "Hey, fingers straight with that seal! You don't want it to blow up in your face, do you?"

"Temari-sama!" they cried ecstatically, immediately swamping her. She laughed and waded her way through them, pausing here and there to ruffle a head. Between the hugs and questions and pleas for more lessons, a few of them broke loose and looked expectantly behind her.

"Hey, where's Uchiha-sensei?"

Temari had been expecting the question, but hearing it spoken aloud left a strange hollowness in her stomach. She managed a rueful smile. "Sorry, guys. He had to go home."

They groaned, disheartened, but she was spared the need to explain further when Taro came to investigate the ruckus and broke into a smile at the sight of her.

"Temari-sama! What a pleasant surprise."

"Hello, Taro," Temari greeted, relieved to see her. "I just came by to see how everyone was doing."

"Well," Taro said, prying one of the kids off the top of the fence, "we're as lively as ever, as you can see. Would you like to come in?"

Temari nodded, pausing long enough to draw out her fan and toss off a mini tornado for the kids to chase. As they raced after it, shrieking in excitement and laughter, she slipped away and followed Taro into the school.

Leaving the sunlight and laughter behind for the silent classroom did not have the effect she'd been hoping for. The uneasy feeling in her gut intensified in the absence of distraction, and her fingers curled at her side in an effort to keep from grimacing. It felt like a stomach-ache, only deeper and subtler.

As Taro went to prepare tea in the adjoining room, Temari wandered over to one of the corkboards holding the children's artwork. In the centre was a framed class photo, and Temari recognized it as the one they'd taken a couple months ago.

Twenty-five beaming faces stared up at the camera, bunched close around the two figures in the centre. She took in her own smiling features, feeling one tug at her lips in memory. Then her eyes slid over to the person next to her.

Itachi was smiling, too, in his barely-there sort of way. The picture only revealed his profile, though, because he hadn't been looking at the camera. He'd been looking at her.

Temari felt her smile fade. She turned away from the picture and took a seat in the window nook.

She knew where the feeling in her stomach was coming from, but for the life of her she couldn't understand why.

He had been her friend. Perhaps the first real one she'd ever had. It had taken her weeks to get used to the concept—to lower her guard and tell him things she'd only ever dwelt on in her own mind.

And what surprised her was how easy it had been, how comfortable she had felt, in a way she'd only ever felt around her brothers. And maybe, because of that comfort and familiarity, she hadn't noticed if there'd been something more.

And if I had, it would have been a miracle, she thought disparagingly.

What his friendship meant to her hadn't become apparent until she'd passed his empty apartment on the way to the school. It was the knowledge that she couldn't just walk down the street to see him anymore that brought it home, and she was angry with herself for realising it only now.

She looked out the window, feeling unsettled by the sight of the children because he wasn't there beside them, because she'd grown so used to catching his eye and mouthing "_you okay?"_ with the expectation of seeing him smile reassuringly in return.

Frustrated, Temari ran a hand through her hair and leaned back against the window. She was as practical and shrewd a person as they came. Staying in a state of uncertainty like this was maddening, especially when she couldn't figure out what she was uncertain about in the first place.

She knew she would miss him. She had a feeling she was already starting to. But there hadn't been fireworks. There hadn't been the sleepless nights or hours spent daydreaming. No blushing or stammering or butterflies in the stomach. None of the things she'd read and heard so much about.

Did there have to be? She wondered.

She was brought out of her reverie by the clink of ceramic and looked up to see Taro offering her a cup of tea.

Nodding her thanks, she accepted it and held it in her lap as Taro took a seat beside her.

They watched the children in silence for a while before Taro spoke. "Are you all right, Temari-sama? You seem distracted."

Temari opened her mouth to tell her she was fine, then caught herself when she realised she'd be lying. Subconsciously, her thoughts drifted back to the night before to what her youngest brother had said to her.

Ironically, since becoming Kazekage at least, Gaara had rarely if ever exerted control over his siblings. He was even less likely to give them advice, as he had precious little to draw from in experience. But last night had prompted him to do so, and Temari found herself at an impasse as she looked at the kindly face in front of her. It had been difficult enough to confide in her brothers, but Taro was a good person—one with sense when she thought back to what the woman had said in the greenhouse.

_That makes one of us, at least._

Temari took a deep breath. "Taro, do I have your discretion?"

Taro rested her hand over her heart. "Absolutely."

Temari stared at the floor intently. Then she raised her head, her eyes settling on the class picture nearby.

"You were right about him," she said.

Taro was silent at first, uncomprehending, but then she followed Temari's gaze and understanding slowly dawned on her.

"Oh," she said, voice softening. "I see."

"I didn't know," Temari said uncomfortably. "Even after you told me, I didn't take it seriously."

Taro was quiet for a moment. "Am I right to assume it was unreciprocated?"

"Yes," Temari said, her fingers curling at the ache in her stomach. "I think so."

Taro looked at her. "You think so?"

"I…" Temari hesitated, then stopped altogether. To her alarm, she found herself feeling somewhat ill. Thinking about him in that light, knowing his background and history—it freaked her out, to be honest. And forcing herself to find an answer like this was making it worse. Her mind was scattered, offering pangs but little in insight as she tried to elucidate what she meant.

She realised the struggle must have been showing on her face because Taro spoke again. "Will you ever go to Konoha again?"

"Yes," Temari said, the thought inducing a wave of anxiety. "Probably."

"Then it's not forever," Taro reminded her gently. "You don't have to fret over it now."

That much was true. But, being tormented like this—she winced—how he must have _felt_ the whole time, smiling in that cryptic sort of way while she went on obliviously without even considering looking at him the same way. It had only been two days and she was at her wit's end. How he'd coped with this for months was beyond her.

She felt the ache deepen and clenched her fingers into fists.

"I don't know," she finally managed to say. "I don't know how I feel. Is it right to say that?"

"Of course it is," Taro said. "Waiting for the answer to come to you isn't easy, but it's infinitely better than trying to go back and wish you'd thought things through."

At Temari's silence, Taro set her tea on the windowsill and turned to face her properly. When Temari reluctantly looked up, she found only compassion on the older woman's face.

"For some people," she said, "it happens suddenly, and they fall hard and fast. For others, it happens slowly. Sometimes without them even realising it. And even though it's not as exciting, sometimes that's the best way, because it gives you time to think.

"So whatever your answer, Temari-sama, I advise you not to give it until you've had time to stop, slow down, and think."

Temari was silent for several seconds, looking at her. Then she managed a small, lopsided smile. "There's no easy way out of this, is there?"

"I'm afraid not," Taro admitted, laughing a little as Temari shook her head. "It will come to you, though. That I promise you."

"Thank you, Taro."

"Of course, Temari-sama. More tea?"

Temari held the cup out in surrender. "Please."

Taro chuckled and gathered their cups, disappearing soon after into the adjoining room. Temari leaned her head back against the window and closed her eyes.

Time to stop. Slow down. And think.

She had a feeling it wasn't going to be pleasant. Or simple or straightforward, for that matter. This was new ground; messy, uncharted, and laced with barbed wire. Despite that, and despite the helpless resentment burgeoning up inside of her, she opened her eyes and looked at the class picture again.

I'm going to miss him, she thought, allowing herself to admit it. I'm going to miss everything.

The assurance and comfort of his presence even when he didn't speak. The sight of him hunkered down amongst the children. The way he caught her glances and knew what she was thinking without having to ask. Even his dumb jokes.

Mostly, she would miss what had been the ease of a mutual loneliness, one they shared from having been at the height of society and its lowest point, one that came from alienation and responsibility; from knowing the guilt, trauma, and joy of family.

Her emotions had been stirred somewhere deeper below the surface. He'd given her the ability to breathe freely; to trust again; to remember simple, basic, contentment. He'd reminded her that she was a person beneath the label of jounin and Kazekage's sister.

Maybe, she thought, if he'd stayed longer or I'd had more time, I would have had my answer sooner.

The thought only filled her with regret, and she found her hand moving to the place that hurt in her stomach.

Taro was right. This wasn't easy. It hurt. A lot. And it would continue to until she'd come to terms with how she felt about this. Until then, she would have to do as Taro said and make time to think.

Temari stared hard at the picture, wanting to glare but faltering midway. Wearily, she closed her eyes, letting her head drop back against the window.

Time was what she'd needed, and time was all she had left now.

* * *

><p>The trip back took four days, a full twenty-four hours longer than it normally would have due to Sasuke's insistence that they take breaks. Itachi didn't think it was necessary, but he obliged him if only to put his brother at ease as they left Suna behind them.<p>

In hindsight, he felt he hadn't acted any differently than usual, despite what Sasuke's frequent side-glances suggested. He'd been quiet, yes. But he'd felt fine. He'd spoken when it was appropriate. He'd teased Sasuke for being a worrywart. And he'd purposefully walked, without a backwards glance, away from the only other person he cared about.

He supposed the trip had been made bearable with the prospect of seeing trees again after the endless expanse of desert, and he'd felt something lighten in his chest at the sight of Konoha colouring the horizon.

They'd arrived at sunset, taking the winding back roads home.

The house was just as they'd left it, coated in a thin layer of dust. Sasuke checked the fridge and announced he would do their grocery shopping in the morning. Itachi put their belongings away and unpacked, slowly feeling himself settle into old patterns again. Except there was one thing he had remaining, and he set it carefully on the kitchen table with the intention of opening it in the morning.

Sleep came easily, dreamless and heavy after the journey home. He took advantage of it, sleeping in till later the next day, and rising only after he was certain that Sasuke had left.

He dressed and made his way downstairs, planning to make good on his routine despite the anticipation building inside of him. So without rush, he ate breakfast and did the dishes, then had the tea Sasuke had set out for him, all while sitting at the table where he'd placed the wrapped package.

After he'd finished, he went to wash the cup and placed it in the dish rack before returning to the kitchen table. For a long moment, he didn't move and just sat looking at the package.

In truth, it was the only thing that had kept him from dwelling on what he'd left behind. It was a little thing; only a fragment of that life; but it was from her, and that was all that mattered.

Slowly, he reached out and carefully removed the wrapping, already knowing what it was. Small, green leaves rustled in the silence as he pulled the last of the wrapping away. It was a plant he hadn't seen before, and beneath the pot was a sealed box. As he moved to detach it, a flash of white caught his eye. There was a small index card nestled amongst the stems.

He gently withdrew it and raised it to read.

_Itachi,_

_This plant is native to Suna. When it becomes mature in another four to six weeks, it'll produce a gel that serves as a good remedy for cough and chest congestion. You didn't like my ginger lemon tea (neither did I, to be honest) so I thought this would be a good substitute. You can take it orally or apply it topically when needed, whichever you prefer. I've included a few seeds that I think would be compatible with Konoha's climate, so you can try your luck and see if you can get them to grow. You were always a quick learner. I'm sure you'll be fine. _

_Good luck._

_- Temari_

He read the card over again several times, searching the ink flows and indentations for the things she hadn't said. After a while, he turned his attention to the box and removed the tape sealing it. Inside were a series of plastic containers, each containing different seeds marked with a handwritten label. He looked through each one, pausing on a particular set of green seeds. Finding them familiar, he turned the container over to read the label. It was Jewelweed.

With slow, measured movements, he placed the containers back in the box and tucked the index card into his pocket. The tape and wrapping lay crumpled on the table, waiting to be thrown out.

The anticipation was gone. The moment was done, and now there was nothing left to do but resume his old life of clockwork.

Sleeping. Waking. Eating. Working. Rinse and repeat.

He sat there a few minutes longer. Then he abruptly stood up and grabbed the box off the table. The wrapping fell to the floor, going ignored as he strode to the back of the house and opened the door.

The sun was bright and hot when he emerged into the yard, baking the earth beneath his feet as he crossed the stone path towards the shed. The door's hinges had rusted from age and rain and squeaked in protest when he pulled it open.

He entered and retrieved a spade and shovel, taking a moment to shake off the dust and cobwebs. Then he went back outside, walking until he slowed to a stop in the middle of the old vegetable garden.

In the patches of cracked earth, the grass brushed his shins, choked out in places where the soil had eroded and the weeds had grown in.

He knelt and began to dig.


End file.
